Having to Let Go

Moving always sucks.  It's always stressful, something always breaks, when you're unpacking you always can't remember where you put at least a dozen things and never find them until they've become irrelevant, and, the hardest part, you have to say goodbye to a lot of things that matter.

I am someone who endows everything I own.
I did an acting exercise where we were to replicate our rooms in class and perform an every day activity in our space.
My teacher ridiculed me for having too many possessions that didn't matter.
I asked him to pick an object.  Any one.  I could tell him who bought it for me or how long it took me to save enough for it, why I so desperately need it, and how if it went missing, that I wouldn't be able to replace it.
Because of that, everything is precious.

And because I've at some point had so little; eating off of my one plate that a friend's roommate gave me, with my one fork that I stole for the dining hall, the pasta that I had to half-cook in the microwave because I couldn't afford a pot....it's so hard not to choose to leave those things behind.

What's more, I don't live by a Good Will or anything, and so I'm having to confront throwing away things that have been little luxuries, a chance to vacation in normal, something that someone somewhere needs and I just can't get it to them.

I tried leaving things outside of my apartment, hoping someone would take them home....and instead the building supervisor tossed them in the trash.
I feel like the biggest consumer.

So here's what I've gotta do: own less.
I love moving.
Not my stuff, but the experience.
I love change, new people, new friends, a new home.
A chance for a place to have everything that yesterday lacked.

And if I'm going to want to do this again, I can't keep these things.
I emotionally can't confront this year after year,
But I also don't need all those little luxuries then.
I'll borrow, and make my own as I make things work,
But if I want to be a nomad, I have to carry less too.

And perhaps as I whole, I'll feel freer and able to connect to what really matters.
Like a tree shedding it's leaves in the fall, and enduring the cold and empty winter because it knows that spring will come, when its leaves will return bringing hope with them.
I am excited for seasons; and inspire to let go.

Don't Go Breaking Into Song

So for days now I've been trying to write about my next move across the country; and I finally figured out why I can't seem to post anything:

I'm scared.  I'm really scared. The last time I moved across the country I regretted it. And not like "oh I shouldn't have had that extra cookie" regret, but full on blaming and shaming myself for things that were never within my control; constantly questioning how much happier I would've been if I just hadn't moved. 

And yes; that's why I'm planning to move back to Philly.....but what if I end up regretting that too, looking back at LA as a happier time?   How will I get over losing what I'm leaving behind if Philly isn't everything that I want it to be?

The ending of the movie Sweet Charity has always stuck with me.  (Yes, spoiler alert. Skip this paragraph if you still haven't gotten to watch the movie from 45 years ago.)  In the movie, Charity works as an escort, until she and a customer fall in love. He scoops her up and makes plans to marry her, have her move in with him, and all in all give her a happier life. 

But on the day of the wedding, he leaves her at the alter. Heartbroken, Charity calls her coworkers, with whom she had been living, to tell them she needs to come home. 

But they are too exited for Charity's new life that she can't bare to tell them the news, and through her tears she plays along with the happy fiction, eventually hanging up the phone.  So she is friendless, homeless and completely alone.  That night she sleeps on the bridge that reminds her of the last man to break her heart; once again in pieces after over investing in a better life. 

And I know I'm not Charity.  I don't need a prince to come save me; nor will I ever depend solely on someone else for my survival. But I relate to the happier moments turning to poison as soon as they become memories.  I understand that feeling of calling the friends who want just the best for you and not being able to vocalize that once again - I've failed to find happiness.  I don't even know how to face myself when happens. 

There were moments in this past year where I'd close my eyes, tense my fists and I really would try to go back in time.  I felt responsible for my suffering. 

So what if this move results the same way?

The last time I transferred to a position that wasn't my promoted role, I quit the job. What will I do for work and rent and insurance if that happens again...? Not to mention that I am really committed to this career path.  Is that worth staying in a city where I am sick and miserable?  Or moving but backwards into a role without a chance to show what I have learned?

If you can't notice I tend to catastrophize and plan accordingly for each reality of apocalypse.  I used to panic about subway cars; how would my life have been different if I had gotten into the front car instead of the one just behind it...?  Who would my friends be if I had had calculus for first period and not fourth?  What would my life had been like if....

So I know this nervousness is normal for me.  I'll be happier once the move is done.  I just wish that in the meantime, I wasn't feeling so afraid.

Some Changes from the Past Week

Hello lovely readers,

So I've been a bit quiet the last week and I'll walk you through why.

First of all I have been surrounded so constantly by such magnificent loves that I've seldom had time to reflect, and honestly no need to. I've been happy and I know exactly why: I'm back where I belong and where I need to be. 

And thus the second reason for my silence: now that I know what I want.....what do I do next?  How do get on that plane to a city where I've only ever struggled?  Especially now that I know that it's contributing to my sadness, which often materializes in physical pain...

Someone asked me in my dream scenario, what would I do next, and the honest answer is to not leave.... To become a little stray cat traveling around Philly until I find myself a home. 

But I have to go back. I have a lease to break, things to pack, a belovéd mattress and books to somehow transport.... But as a best friend said, I shouldn't let that be the reason not to do what I want. 

As far as art goes, I have a vlog in the works and am going to be making my own work as it is....might as well be surrounded by loves as I do so. This isn't the end of my art, it's just migrating to a more fruitful location. And I visited New York again and to the idea of moving there instead, I will Monty Python style laugh in your face...no no. Not for me. 

I like being in a city, but one that's a little more centrally located, and I also have more of a family in Philly. When I went to tea with one of my friends I happily exclaimed that they brought two pens with our checks as I hate when they only bring one; I then dropped my pen. 

I realized that I was only complaining about the scarcity of pens because I've been going out so often with friends, something I rarely got to do on LA. I don't like working so hard not to be alone, and no doubt the walkability makes meeting up all the easier. Plus people on this coast are used to grabbing a drink after work together, or catching up during lunch, and that's exactly what I want. 

And so I sit warmly in my silence. Knowing WHAT I want, and now working on the HOW. 

Post-Mortem on West Coast Me

          I have had a pretty rough year.  I moved out here under the pretext that I was paving the way for my love and I to live together in a city we had dreamed of for two years.  I want to work in TV/Film and he could do anything out here, acting, programming, urban farming, literally anything, but he just wasn’t ready to leave yet.  So I moved out first and stayed with one of my best friends.  I knew her and her family for over a decade and was so thrilled for the opportunity to save some money as I lived with people that I loved.  

Within the span of a month, however, my once-love said that there was a possibility that he would never move (something that absolutely would have kept me from leaving had I known this before I was already here) and my friend’s family said that they needed my room back and that I had a month to find a new place.

          So I found a place quickly.  It was far from work, however; one day I left three hours before my shift and was still late.  So obviously I needed a different space.  I applied for a room somewhere, almost lived in that landlord’s guest house, and then there was another space that was available in the original building.  It was her old office and I loved it.  It had a loft for the bed, a little patio, and more space than I’ve ever had.  It had a shared bathroom down the hall, but honestly I’d rather share a bathroom than a kitchen, so I was happy.  I also knew that my love would like it, if he moved out here.  He always loves little balconies and there was definitely enough space for both of us.  It was terrifyingly more than I had paid for rent in my entire life, though, even though it was considered cheap for this city.  So I knew that every financial woe I’d associate with him, for making me believe that he was going to come here as my partner, and instead he abandoned me to figure it out on my own.  I realized he wasn’t a part of my life out here, and wasn’t try to be, so I called something that was already done.  Plus without the pressure of him coming here to be with me and to help me, perhaps I wouldn’t resent him for how much I was going to struggle.

          And things were okay for a little while.  It was hard being on my own after a few years of living with a love and before that being surrounded in school by people who knew you and could see you change.  That’s one of the best things about friends; they remind you of when you grow.  And yes, I made a few friends out here.  I pushed myself to go out more than I usually would and with the safe umbrella of my coworkers, I felt confident in my West Coast body.

Things were getting harder, though, and I was losing weight from not eating enough as I couldn’t afford much food after paying rent.  I don’t know how much that ended up attributing to my health, but about two or three months later I was in the hospital.  You know that story though; I was in for 8 days, out for 6, back in for 10, and when I got home I saw that my landlord wanted the space back as her office.  I had signed a year lease, but she never gave me an original copy and when I requested it at this point, the contract now said that it was a month-to-month lease.  She also had a commercial license for the building, not a housing one, so I didn’t have any renter’s rights, and so I had to move.

          Also, at this point, I had lost about half the friends that I made out here and half of the ones that were leftover from high school.  And it makes sense; my life is anything but easy.  Some did it tastefully, some in a way that hurt so much it’ll be hard to ever forgive.  Basically I was in this space of feeling alone and like a burden to everyone I loved, fearing constantly losing those that were still by my side.  It made me afraid to reach out to anyone but I still so desperately needed help.  There were many nights that I wept alone, simply wishing for someone to hold my hand.

It was moments like this that made me really miss my love and my makeshift home out there.  I had more people in Philly telling me that they wished I were closer so they could help, than I had friends left in this city.  And I became nostalgic.  It could be a “grass is always greener” mentality, but I longed for the happiness that I had there.  I tried to get back together with my once-love, too, offering anything: to leave the West Coast, to move wherever he goes, to start over somewhere new, to wait for him until he was ready, even to pay for a plane ticket for him to see if he could be happy out here; because I realized that more than a career in TV/Film, I want to have a life with people that I love.  And in the last two years I have lived in four cities, and was happier in the three that I was together with him, than I have been here without him.  He declined.  It’s so hard to know exactly what I want and not be able to work for it.  Everything I’ve ever wanted I could achieve with hard work; it may not have been easy, but it was always worth the happiness that I made for myself.  And I’ve discovered a key to escape my unhappiness here and was told not to open that door.

Also around this time was when I moved in with the roommate that after one day together decided she wanted to break our lease.  That actually was to my benefit, ironically, because I didn’t want a roommate anyway (especially one that was that unaccepting) and our building manager showed me a studio in a different building that he manages and it’s exactly what I can afford and it’s all mine (and no shared bathroom this time).

          So aside from feeling like I am in a city where I’ve only felt pain and loss, I have the perfect apartment.  It’s also about the price that a studio in any city would be, so it helps me feel less like this city is taking my money and my freedom with it.  That said, I don’t know how to find my happiness now.  It’s not that I need someone else to be happy; I’m happy by myself and like myself quite a bit.  Instead, it’s that I feel a greater joy at making those that I love happy.  I’d sooner get my once-love a toy from his favorite anime, than spend that money on something for myself.  I’m not selfless, I still take care of me….there just isn’t that much that I need.  A roof over my head, food that doesn’t make my belly hurt, a blanket because I’m always cold…and that’s about it.  For instance, my little hermit crab has a mansion with three water dishes (salt, fresh and gatorade), two kinds of food, coconut substrate AND sand, mineral cubes, a climbing branch, a giant “tree” to climb on/in, a hermit hut, two sponges and three extra shells.  I also have a humidity gage and thermometer, as well as a nighttime heating lamp to make sure that my baby one has the perfect conditions for the happiest of homes; because seeing him happy makes me happier than anything else.

This is the capacity of love that I want to give.  And without my once-love, I don’t know where to begin in rekindling that extra happiness.  I think the first step is getting out of this isolation of no work and no socializing.  I need to be around people again.  That’s why I decided to go back to the East Coast for my birthday.  So many people I love are there, and it’ll give me a chance to see my former city without it being tied to my ex.  Perhaps it’s the layout of the city that I love.  Maybe I identify more with the hard working East Coast over than the lax spirit of the West.  I could miss traveling and hopping on a bus for two hours and being in a different state.  Perhaps I miss walking around for everything I need and feeling independent of rides from friends.  Maybe it’s that I felt safer there than I do here.

          One of my doctors thinks not feeling safe is a key to why I’ve been in pain.  She thinks that my brain has been mimicking the symptoms of my Crohn’s disease to warn me that I’m in danger.  Perhaps it could be that I no longer have 3,000 miles between me and the woman that abused me.  Maybe it’s that my ex always made me feel safe, and now I’m on my own.  I don’t know how to feel safe by myself.  And I don’t need anyone to help me with the battle, I just want someone to hold my hand after the fight.  (And the hardest part is I know whose hand I want to hold, and don’t really want anyone else’s.)

          So I’m really excited to see what this trip brings.  I’m hoping for clarity, less pain, lots of fun, and to get to see the people that I love so much.  I really felt like myself last year, that I was growing into the person that I want to become.  Hopefully this trip will help bring that forward motion back to a city that’s felt pretty stagnant.  Maybe even, through the eyes of my all-knowing friends, they’ll help me see that in this year, which has felt a like a waste of my time, actually helped me grow into something I can be proud of.  That’s what I hope for the most.  This city has never been very good to me, and I’ve lost so much this year; I don’t want to regret moving here.