Sorry for the Convenience

This whole journey… quest… thing to build the life I want isn’t all bad. It’s been no cake walk. (Side note: Why is cake walk a thing to compare an easy time of it to? Seriously. It’s all a matter of luck and all you get at the end is a cake. Don’t get me wrong. I love cake. BUT I want more than cake from life… like pizza and cookies.) I love the city… town… thing where I live. And it’s pretty cool to be able to have a couch I bought with my own money… or I’m paying off with my own money. Same thing, right? However, as noted in the past couple of blogs, things haven’t been spectacular. And tonight, I knew what I had to do to help me deal… I went to the on-site gym at our apartment.

I have missed kickboxing so much. Every time someone has asked me what I like doing for self-care, my answer is always “I used to do kickboxing in Seattle.” I don’t know how my face looks when I answer, but inside, it’s me in black and white looking forlornly out of rainy window. But 1) kickboxing parlors are difficult to find… or at least the type of parlor I’m looking for could be hard to find; 2) kickboxing costs money I don’t have right now. As I just moved across the country and started a new job and Christmas is coming up, I can’t quite justify dropping dough like that; and 3) I’m lazy as fuck. By the time I get home, I just want to eat a large bowl of pasta made by my person and watch mindless TV or Stranger Things.

Tonight though… I didn’t have pasta. AND the mindless television turned out to be a shitty made-for-tv-movie full of white folks that was so bad it made me get my ass of the couch, change my clothes and walk up to the gym. There was no heavy bag. There was no one to greet me. It was just me and the elliptical. Oh! And my music. I was only able to go twenty minutes before I hit my wall and started the cool down. Then I realized just how out of shape I have become. As well as, that near freezing air does not help someone who’s still trying to catch her breath… my lungs are still a bit tight.

So, it wasn’t kickboxing. My heart still goes to black and white and stares out the rainy window when I think about doing kickboxing. But right now, I’m making due with what I have. I’m more relaxed than I have been in a while, which could have something to do with the 2 night time acetaminophen I preemptively took. Even though it was just for twenty minutes, it was about me making the effort to live the life I want. A life with less stress and more energy. A life where I choose to do something-anything-rather than watch shitty made-for-tv-movies. (Side note: Unless I’m drunk enough to enjoy it with my BMN buddy. But since she lives in Seattle, I’ll stand by my previous statement. Until she comes and visits.) Right back to the life I want to live, I want to be healthy and not have my world revolve around work. Not to mention less anxiety and more balance etc.

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The Element Exit

I still feel as though I’m out of my element. Serious adult relationship. New job. New location. New clientele. New place to live. It has felt for a while now that everything is unfamiliar. It makes me insecure, and regardless of the feedback I’ve received about my job, I feel like I can’t do anything correctly. I realize there are a ton of factors that are contributing to the way I feel, but the most blaring reason is this damn feeling of being completely out of my element. And it doesn’t even feel like hyperbole at this point in time. Which leads me to the question, when did I exit my element?

Okay, okay, okay. I am aware that when I left the only home in America I’ve known I wasn’t staying in the comfort zone-a slightly smaller area laying within my element. (Just so you know what I’m talking about.) Same goes for choosing to share life with my person and getting a new job and lets not forget the new place to live. I didn’t realize all the choices I’ve made within the past six months or so would push me out of the safety of being in my element. A silly realization, I know! I probably ought to have considered this the entire fucking time.

There is hope that eventually this will become my element… or maybe my element will grow to include the job and person and new clientele etc. But today, I’m lost and insecure. It’s a dark place to be. And in the small corner of my mind where my logic is currently cowering, it’s not quite as dark. It’s here I can remind myself of the change in seasons and other things in addition to all the aforementioned bull shit that are contributing to the discomfort. It is here that I can perhaps entertain the possibility this madness won’t last forever.

I’ve made enough changes in my life to know that it’s usually after the honeymoon phase has come to an end, this phase begins. The realization of having exited your element. I also know given time the stupidly dark phase I’m in will end and thus will begin the hitting the stride phase. Or at least it has before. I’ve never made all the changes at once, and to be honest, this is my first real quasi-grown=up relationship. So, all the things that are coming up with my person are completely new and different. There are no regrets though. I wouldn’t change my life for anything I can think at the moment. Well… maybe a good bowl of spaghetti. I probably should have had more than stir-fry for dinner. I tend to go and stay in dark places when I’m hungry… reason 27 for why I am feeling all dark and stormy right now.

Straight to the Gut

I was well aware there’d be trade-offs for moving across the country. I mean I’ve lived in London before… I know you miss out on things when you don’t live near your family and/or friends. For example, my oldest friend (not age… length of time. I mean her mom remembers the first time my parents brought me to church after I was born amount of time) got married yesterday. It was a blow when she told me she’d be getting married so soon after I left. I knew chances were slim to none that I’d be able to make it back for he wedding, but she understood.

However, what I forgot about was the unexpected life’s sucker punches to the gut. They happen where ever you’re living. They happen regardless your financial situation. I’ve had them happen when I lived at home and the times when I haven’t been living at home and when I’ve been travelling. Today, life saw that I wasn’t expecting anything terrible to happen at the moment-what else is to be expected on a lazy Sunday evening? Then I noticed some Facebook posts from some family talking about a friend dying. In my world, it’s safe to assume, I could find out from my parents.

When I texted my mom to find out who died, I was expecting a vaguely familiar name of someone who was closer to 100 than 50. But when my mom answered, it confused the fuck out of me. Normally, when I have such text exchanges with one or both my parents, I usually do the text version of solemnly nodding. Not today though! My person asked what was wrong because he heard the reaction to the text. So, I told him that a family friend had died. This friend was also my boss for a year when I was in my twenties. She hired me at time in my life when I floundering.

I’m not stupid. She’d have died even if I had been in Seattle. Yet… there’s something more comforting to get bad news at home than when you’re in somewhere unfamiliar. I also know that the next time life decides to sucker punch me, it’ll be a bit easier than it was this time. Not because the news will be any better. It’ll be because my surroundings will be that much more familiar. AND my person will be that more familiar with what to do when I get bad news.

This won’t be the first funeral I’ll have missed because of distance. It won’t be the last either. But tonight my heart is sad and my stomach is sore. (It has nothing to do with amount of chicken strips I ate earlier.) After I finish this, I’ll turn out my light and replay the last time we talked. Tomorrow, I’ll go to work and get through my day, and I’ll be grateful to a woman who gave me a chance for me to realize doing admin wasn’t the direction where I wanted my life to go. And I’ll remember her when there are quiet moments between clients and on my commute.

What the Deuce?

So I had grand plans. They were fucking awesome. I was going to start blogging again as soon as I arrived in Massachusetts and blog all about starting over. Except my laptop screen cracked on the trip across the US, and it took about 2 months to get it fixed and returned. I got it back today. I missed my computer. Okay, okay, okay… I probably should rewind and start at the beginning. I was born in Seattle on a cold winter’s morn in 1980. Hang on. That may be too far back. How about I go back to 3 months ago?

Threeish months ago-give or take a couple of weeks-I told my bosses to shove their stupid job up their stupid asses. Fiiiiiine. I didn’t use those exact words, but I did give my notice, because I was planning on moving to the east coast with my person in September. Did I already have a job? Nope. Did he have a job lined up? Nope again. Had we been living together before we moved? Of course not. Well… had we at least taken a road trip as a unit? Define road trip-nothing more than a few hours in the car together. That’s correct. We decided to take our first road trip together in order to move across the country and in together and both of us have a switch in job.

Listen. When you do all the changes at once, you won’t have to have any changes for a long time. That’s just how it works. Okay. Probably not. But it was the choice I made. It was the choice my person I made. And about two months ago, we left Seattle with all that we could fit into my car to move to the east coast. The plan was to hang out for three weeks to see if I could get a job. Genius plan, am I right?! Well shut the fuck up. Because it worked out this time.

Seriously. It was ridiculous. The first week in Massachusetts I had 3 or 4 interviews. I went to them all and nailed them. Or so I thought. But I hadn’t heard anything by the end of the week. Now, I know what you’re thinking… “Doesn’t it take more than a few days to hire someone?” To which I say, in normal circumstances yes, but I NEEDED a job ASAP. I only had 2 interviews lined up for the following week. It was looking like we’d be driving back across the country. Except, I went to both of those interviews and by Wednesday I had to choose between money and job that sounded like something that would be an overall amazing experience. I chose the latter.

After accepting the job, we had to find a place to live. My person handled that like a pro, and he found a place that we could move into the weekend before I started my job. Thus we moved into together. Is it a nice place? Meh. But it’s ours. And hopefully, soon, it will look like we live there and aren’t just squatting. Because we only drove my car across the country, we didn’t have a bed until last week when our friend came with all our stuff. Lemme tell you… air mattresses were only meant to be slept on for 3 days tops-not 3 weeks. I know this to be fact. But like I said, we have a bed now. And a life-size Legolas cutout hanging out in the closet. But that’s a different story for a different time.

Are You Kidding Me!?

Not only is the best Batman now dead, but for the second Saturday in a row, I’m doing car bullshit!!! No one told me this was what being a grown up was about. I came in for an oil change and the mother fucking airbag recall everyone seems to have, and boom somehow I need a full service thingy because miles. I thought moving back in with my parents who live closer to my work would save the mileage on my car. BUT my person lives in the country. Literally when I was a kid, my family went camping and vacationed where he now lives.

I’m really not complaining though. I do enjoy spending time with my person. And going on adventures is worth it. Plus. ┬áMy dad is coming to pick me up. And I have earbuds to listen to all the podcasts!!! Seriously. I discovered podcasts at the beginning of the year. Need I say my mind has been totally blown since then. True crime. Personal stories. Movie talk. Historical things. Etc. I love them all. Hmm the receptionist woman keeps coming in, and I can’t understand a damn word she says. But apparently it hasn’t been me she wants. So I continue to wait. And wait.

My dad is a slow driver. I mean I love him; he just is slow as snot. And I’m only wearing just one earbud so if they call my name, I’ll be ready. Nope. It’s never me. It doesn’t matter if I dropped off my car less than an hour ago. Shut up. I am too patient. There could be free water that I probably should drink. I’m too old for this bullshit. Waiting is a luxury I do not have. Aaaaand I sound like a crotchety old woman. Maybe I’m okay with that. After all, there shouldn’t be more expected of me with two weeks in a row of car bullshit.

Saturday Morning at the Tire Shop

Fucking work meetings are the bane of my existence. Aaaaand semi-unrelated distain is over. I was on my way to a work meeting when some dude shouted at me I had a flat. That’s what it had sounded like but when I checked my tires before I left, they looked fine. Same thing when I checked the day before. I’m not a dumb shit who willfully drives on the freeway with a flat. I’m competent as fuck, damnit!!! Aaaaand defensiveness is over… for now. So I pulled over to the shoulder. Unfortunately, said shoulder was too fucking narrow to safely change the tire, which I soooo know how to do.

Long story short, after freaking out and my dad opening up a roadside assistance account for me, the Washington state roadside clean up person came to help. Hurrah! Except I had to drive the car with its flat tire about a quarter of a mile in rush hour down to a bigger shoulder. Because guess what Washington state department of transit, your mother fucking narrow shoulders are as about as useful as tits on a bore. Teats on a boar? Same thing. So I did as directed. And the entire time he was changing my damn tire, I was screaming in my head I could be doing it myself. Even though I didn’t have a bright orange vest and traffic was whizzing by.

Silver lining: I got out of going to said meeting. And now I’m spending my morning dropping waaay more money than I thought I would, because my other tires need to be replaced too. And considering the amount of driving I’m going to be doing, better safe than sorry. I guess. On the other hand, good decisions rarely lead to adventure. No. No. I have to be an adult. Besides, I already gave the okay for the tires.

The moral of this story… trust your ears more than your eyes. Especially if it’s before 7am. The more you know.

Making Sense of It

I had just got into my car and turned it on when I heard the news. It took me a second to comprehend what the hosts were talking about. Chris Cornell dead. Okay. I’m slow in the mornings, like snail up the side of a glass jar you’re keeping it in. Or for my Canadian readers, like maple syrup in winter. Right anyway. I decided to leave it on the rock station rather than change the radio over to the classical station to keep me calmer on my drive. It didn’t take too long before the S-bomb was dropped. It was suspected he committed suicide. As the station played songs from his collection, I tried to wrap my head around everything.

Due to the vast amount of true crime media I expose myself to, I immediately thought maybe it was just set up to look like a suicide and he was actually murdered by the “sex worker” he brought to his room after the show. Don’t ask me why seemingly happily married, sexy as fuck, rock god Chris Cornell would have to pay someone is beyond me. But like I mentioned before, I’m slow in the morning. Maybe because of the scenario I created in my head or maybe because I’m just that weird, I hypothesized it could have been a David Carradine situation. However by the time I arrived to the training I was headed to instead of my office, I realized it probably wasn’t either of those situations. And suicide rarely makes sense to those left behind.

Part of my job is to assess for suicide. So, I know the warning signs. I know the talk around it. And I know that if someone is determined to end his life they aren’t usually going to be talking about it-especially to their therapist who has to report such things to the proper authorities. Another and is that performers perfect a persona (gracious that’s a lot of p’s), thusly the public and sometimes even those in their inner-most circles don’t see anything that said performer doesn’t want to be known. The last time I felt like this was when Robin Williams suicided.

Some details of Chris Cornell’s death have emerged. Those details aren’t so important to me. My heart goes out to the children who are left fatherless and to those who truly loved him and he loved. I’ve been forced to look at the assumptions I’ve made about those who suicide, which hasn’t put me in the most flattering of lights. Especially for someone in the mental health realm. I’m also amongst the thousands of fans left behind-his voice was such a big part of the soundtrack to my life in its many incarnations. I mean what choice did I have I was a teenager in the 90s and happened to live in Seattle. So tonight, I go through what music I have of his and look the rest up on YouTube as I wrestle with assumptions and sadness and confusion. And hopefully, I’ll stay clear of anymore David Carradine references/comparisons.