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.

Things Are Moving, and Hopefully Forward:

The Move

As far as my move goes, I had an lovely interview today for the job I want in Philly, and next week I’m having dinner with the beautiful soul who wants to drive Spencer and I across the country.  

My little one molted the last time he was on a train and changed shells the last time he was in a car; so I think he’ll enjoy the trip: perhaps traveling reminds him of the sea.

Also his birthday is coming up at the end of June and I can’t wait to shower him with even more presents.  There are a lot of people that I love whom I’ve lost this year, and yet this little hermit crab has held on unwaveringly.  He absolutely is one of the best things in my life right now.

The Me

Speaking of which, I’m a little lost.  I’ve learned that I’m at my happiest when I have someone to love, and with the absence of many of those that I thought of as family, I’ve started to lose hope in having people to truly love; and in tandem, ever being really happy.

I remember when I was at my happiest, and that’s not only lost in the past, but it’s not even remotely dreamed of by the person with whom I shared those memories.

So it’s time for new memories, and perhaps some changes in what I hope for.

I need a new reason to wake up to each morning.

The Health

And speaking of mornings, my health is a bit finicky.

My body tends to do what it wants.  No matter how early I go to bed or how many alarms I set, my body has been forcing me to sleep an average of 12 hours a night.  Add in the 4 hour-commute to and from work, plus my 9 hour shifts, I now have -1 hours for myself each day (and yes I tend to get ready for work on my bus ride there…).  Again, it’s time for a change.

ALSO

I realize I have never posted about the current theory of what’s wrong with me.  Perhaps that because I’ve been getting used to it.  It's a bit long, so I've created a separate post for it, which you can find by clicking on this blurry but happy photo of Spencer and I:

I Am 24

          So I’ve been 24 for almost a month now and I’m feeling a weird mid-twenties funk.

For instance, I’ve met a few cute guys, asked their age, found out they’re 19 — and then broke into Mother Goose-esque life advice.  Whereas the older friends I used to go out with are either in panicked existential crises or having babies.

          And I’m all for a good ole “what am I doing with my life” panic, but to be honest, I’m a little too starry eyed for my older friends; I still have time to figure out what I’m doing with my life (and I’m definitely not about to have a baby).  But my newly discovered hangovers won’t let me spend all night out with young ones either, so what am I supposed to do at twenty-four?

Perhaps this a time to try things out?  I can see from my older friends that permanence is down the road….so maybe now I get to play around and see what I want to stick?

          Hmm so let’s see.  Where do I currently stand on the topic of me?

Recent Discoveries Include:

• people mattering more to me than “success” at art; so I’m going to be moving back to where my people are.  
• I know that I need art in my life; so I’m working on ways to bring that back into my every day. 
• I’ve decided that I want to practice yoga and dance….overall finding ways of being active that I don’t detest; so I’m going to look into financial options for this.
• I need nature in my life; so I’ve been making gardens and hiking a priority and have my tattoo as a reminder to go find trees.
• I love my hermit crab.  Spencer is the only man/maybe-woman that I need in my life.  I want him to be happy and spoiled in every possible way.

And for the things I’m still trying to solve:

• I need a last name.  I haven’t comfortably used my legal last name for the past six years, under the philosophy of “why keep a ‘family name’ when they’re not family.”  So I need to finally get the decisiveness (and finances) to make the change.  So in the spirit of 24, let’s start trying.  As of this moment I am officially Heather Boysenberry Aubrey Willow Allen DeLune.  Hopefully one (or none) of them stick and I learn a little more about who I want to be.
• I need to learn to balance my art with my work; I’ve gotten quite good at finding a way to love my “day job”; but I also haven’t memorized a script in a really long time.  I’ve been writing, photographing, even making short movies, but not doing anything professional.  And that feels important to me.  So I’m going attempt a theatre company with a friend and if that doesn’t work I’ll move onto (and come up with) Plan B.
• Dating.  Fine, I’ll acknowledge this.  And I hate it.  I’d Eternal-Sunshine myself, if it were possible.  I don’t know how to move onto something else when I have the memories of something that was so much better.  So I’m not going looking for anything else; but I’ve also accepted that they also were the good ‘ole days and are behind me now.  So romance is on pause.  And if someone comes along and unpauses it, great.  But I’m not gonna force myself into it.
• Moving.  I’ve decided that I want to do it but I’m really scared about the how. I have so much stuff and don’t know how to by myself get it across the country/sold, and I don’t feel comfortable asking anyone for help.  I feel like I’ve drained all of my resources on this coast… I also don’t know when I’ll be transferred, or even IF I will be transferred within my current role…. And if I can’t, I don’t know if I’d rather a) just move to Philly and quit…, b) move to Philly but transfer into a different role and abandon the career I’ve been working towards, c) find a different city and store that will have me within my role, or d) not move, wait a little longer and hope that another role becomes available.  ….So to avoid this panic attack let’s all just put good energy into the Universe that I get the transfer.
• I need to be cleaner; it’ll help a lot of my anxiety.  Hopefully owning less will help; plus learning more tips and actually following through on them.  Maybe I’ll try a reward system to motivate me!
• I want to be happier.  And I think writing all of this down is a good step.  Now I have a list of things to accomplish.

           So that seems like plenty.  I’ll keep you posted on the progress!  

Also this is a picture from the moment that I first realized I was home.

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.

Seven Lessons I've Learned This Year

What I've learned this year:

1. Just because you've found happiness where you are, doesn't mean you're guaranteed to recreate it wherever you go. And there is nothing worthy of sacrificing that happiness. 
2. There is something far greater to me than my passion for art; and that's my love for people. When I was sick and bedridden, I didn't spend my days sitting there writing screenplays, practicing monologues or looking up auditions for when I was healthier. I spend it dreaming of people: to hold my hand when I was in pain, to go on adventures with or even just errands, to celebrate when I could eat or help distract me when I couldn't. I yearned for people; not for art.  
3. Art is still in my life, no matter where I am. Whether I'm the token creative one in a political science class in France, or on a staff in LA who collectively would rather be out making movies, or even just covering whatever I can find (menus, napkins, one of my many many notebooks) with lines of poetry: Art is how I breathe. It functions like an organ inside of me and it keeps me alive.  I can go anywhere and it'll come, too; it is with me until I die.  I will be an artist no matter where I go. 
4. And so I am going. I gave this city a shot AND a second chance. Yet this is where I lost my childhood and earned the scars that I carry. It's where I was first diagnosed with Crohn's, rheumatoid arthritis, asthma, eczema, and hyper-mobility and where I experienced what gives me PTSD.   And this second time around.....?  Well you know a lot of that. I'm still not back to 100% after being in the hospital and out of work for four months, living in five homes in under a year and losing essentially all of the support group that I had previously grown.  I knew I had nothing keeping me here when when I lost the woman that rescued me. The first person to say "you have no idea how easy life should be: you are abused."  And yet I am thankful as this group still helped me get to where I am today, but if I am seen as a burden or even just a disturbance to their lives, then it is absolutely time for me to go. Because from my trip I learned that:
5.  Philadelphia is my home. I didn't live there as a child, nor did I ever plan to spend a significant amount of time there. I was angry we even had to sign a year lease, not nearly expecting how much more I would grow into myself there, than I had in any of the eight other cities I had previously lived in.  And Philadelphia wasn't even mine. It was his home that I was staying in. And though I look back on those days having learned that an attempt at a career out here was not nearly worth leaving that world behind, and though I still see him as fool for equally learning the magnitude of the happiness we created and deciding to run from it - that doesn't mean that happiness isn't still available to me.  I went back and was immediately returned to the world that fed me. Grew me into the passionate, empathetic, proudly quirky sprite that I always had in me. It's where I grew confident in my art and in myself. Where I got my nose pierced and my first tattoo. Where I learned the types of artists and people I want to surround myself with and where I knew I could find them.  Philadelphia is my home now, not just his, and though I lost a love and his family with him, that didn't mean that I lost my own. 
6. Because my family is you.  The people who've told me how worried they were when Spencer was missing. The people who've uttered the phrase "I read your blog."  The strangers and best friends that have sent me messages, assuring me that my tales have inspired them: a goal that I've had through all of this.  You are my family.  I may not be able to come home for the holidays or Skype with you when I have a tough decision to make.  But I do write during those times and you are the ones who read those thoughts and support me with your love.  And so you will be happy to know that the people that I longed for when I was too weak to get out of bed, the hands I was wishing to hold..... Philadelphia houses caring souls who equally yearned to hold my hand and help me up those stairs.  And yes, part of me worries if they're only still here because they haven't been subjected to the toll it takes on my support group when I am sick....but at the same time, I had requests from individuals I had never met to spend time with me so that they could learn more about the person they already loved.  That gird me hope in them to last through the hardest times. And I am so ready to love them.  I think there is magic in that city.  And I may not be there forever, but
7.  I know I need to be there now. 

So there's more to come on what exactly that looks like and when it's happening. But my happiness quest focused on why I was happy in Philadelphia; and now I will focus on the how to get (that) back. 

I also have already become sicker since leaving Philadelphia, so no doubt this move will ultimately help my health. 

So I guess there's also:

      8. I am absolutely a nomad. 

I look forward to the happiness that's ahead of me. 

Loving you lots,

Me

A 700 Word Essay on the State of My Life. And some food.