Though no longer "self-proclaimed" and now actually "bonafide" as an author, let's follow my random life and see just what it is that makes me tick. Together!
You move through the minutes, the hours, the days, weeks, months, years... for the most part happiness abounds.
Then the doubts form. Curiosities race in to cross the game board of your life, and then in a single moment of poor judgement... it's done.
Finished.
I've been here before, you know. Maybe not all of you know that, but most of you do. Granted this time is quite different, being just one infidelity and not a series of them laced with emotions that denoted cheating on more than just one level ("one level" being a physical one). In the end it's apples to apples with a result still reaching the same conclusion; I'm alone again. Can I tell you something weird though? Something that surprises no one more than it surprises me?
I'm not even that mad anymore.
Don't get me wrong... I'm feeling every emotion about this, mostly sadness and confusion, but that bigger piece of anger is just sitting at the peripheral. Those of you that have been around for a while know all about how I handled my breakup with Ken. I had a tank of napalm at my disposal, furiously kicked it over and spread it across everything I possibly could, and then lit it up in a fit of rage so I could watch him and everything we had built burn to the ground. You wanna wrong me? I thought, then I'll get you back by airing all of our dirty laundry right on Facebook. That'll make you sorry.
Only it didn't make Ken sorry... and it didn't make me feel any better. There was nothing cleansing about that experience. Now, six years later, when I re-read some of the things I wrote I can't help but cover my eyes and shake my head in embarrassment at how petty it all was. Not that certain things weren't justified, because I really went through the ringer on that one, but still.
You might be asking why I'm writing this now... if I speak so highly of learning from airing the past in such a negative light. Fair enough. I find that I'm writing now because I haven't written for months, simply clamming up and holding it all in instead. The last few years I've largely shut myself away, and not for self-preservation or anything weird, I just had nothing to say. I shared it all with Derek, and when you have that, you stop sharing with everyone else because there's no need to. I used to be quite open in these things and writing it out now is a weird sort of purge for me. Collect the thoughts, put them down, rearrange them in a manner that makes sense, and then find calm in it. That's the truth.
There might be a couple of you that know what went down between Derek and I, and you might feel I should do the same here as I did back then. You might feel I'm letting him off easy, and that's fair. But it's also not for you to decide. It's for me to decide.
There are several factors that go into my judgement process this time around, at 31 rather than 25. It was always easy for me to shout out "if I ever get cheated on again, I'm out the fuckin' door with no thoughts of a second glance back!" The reality is different. The reality is that 921 days ago when I first said "I love you," we didn't spend a night apart afterward unless one of us was out of town. In the beginning when we'd go to bed, one of us would say "ask me something," and the other would come up with a random question that would usually get a long and thoughtful answer. Eventually this stopped, I'm not sure why... maybe because I just took it all for granted. Maybe I still do. I think the real reason was that it was because I felt I knew him well enough and that there was nothing else to discover.
I remember standing in the shower with Derek at the end of the day on Christmas. We had a couple candles lit and the lights out, so it was just a comfy, safe space. He was talking about his father because it was his first Christmas without him, and he started crying. I started crying too, because here was this person... this man... that had come into my life so unexpectedly and immediately made a huge mark on me. After having my shield up for so long against being hurt by any prospective partner, I was suddenly defenseless against him. That night he was feeling what he needed to feel, and I was lucky enough to share it with him. It drew us together so quickly, with me being the emotional vampire that latches on to people's feelings and how they convey them. And I suppose him, looking for someone that would just listen with no ulterior motive.
And that was us.
Some people feel they know me well enough to know what I want and need, and they have been quick to jump in with "you need to kick him out, he has to go. You won't be able to move on if you don't do that," and it's just not that simple. I wish it was so simple... that I could turn it off and say "see ya later." I think that people are weak, inherently. I know I am, and I of course only can speak for myself, but it is my opinion. We all have weaknesses, we all make mistakes. Hell, I make mistakes all the time, I just cover it up well enough so that it looks intentional. But I've made serious mistakes in my life. I cheated on Ken when we were together, and that's a mistake I'll always hate myself for. I don't believe in the "once a cheater always a cheater" thing, because I know first hand it isn't true, but I can never label myself otherwise. That's my fault. But one mistake does not define me, and it won't define Derek. Sadly it may end up being what defines "us" and that's a really shit thing, because there was so much good that came before it.
I'm not religious. I never have been, I don't ever intend to be. I feel I operate more on a spiritual, maybe "energy" based belief system, but I do think there are some things in the Christian Bible that carry a lot of weight. I Googled this passage and found it incredibly accurate:
"Then they reminded Jesus that adultery was punishable by stoning under Mosaic law and challenged him to judge the woman so that they might then accuse him of disobeying the law. Jesus thought for a moment and then replied, 'He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone at her.'"
What Derek did... he did to me. Not to any of you. I know it might feel like he did it to you too, and while you may feel very strongly on my behalf (as you are of course entitled to feel), please don't pursue anger toward him. Like I said, people make mistakes in life. Some of them are much bigger than others. It's not really any of our jobs to judge, it's our job, if we're able, to help people through these situations. No one died here, no one got permanently sick here. Trust was broken right along with a heart, and it ended up causing the demise of something that was once pretty great.
I'm the one that has to live with the broken pieces of my heart.
At the end, I'm reminded of the beginning. Him: "Did you order a Peppermint Mocha?" Me: "Yes...?" Him: "Found it!"
Our first date on a Tuesday night in November, sitting in the back room of Fox River House under fluorescent lights and chatting idly over a cider for me and a beer for him. The night ending in our first kiss, in my car in his mom's driveway. Watching our first movie together in his living room, Silver Lining's Playbook. Seeing the Hunger Games in the theater a few days later. Decorating a Christmas tree together. Creating inside jokes, chuckling at the idiosyncrasies we each had. Dinners out, awkward waiters, scowling waitresses. A move across the country. A second move across the country. Tears of happiness and sadness, broken barriers and open discussions. Disagreements that led to accepting differences. Never having a single fight. Never raising voices to each other. Cooking dinners at home, cooking for friends at home. Being a united front that at least from the outside, looked perfect. Because that's what picture's do... they don't show the growing doubt. They don't show the fear that it's going to end badly, the concern that maybe this isn't the one. The hope that he is the one.
They show touched up faces, the best selection out of ten photos where both of you have normal looking smiles. Pictures hide a multitude of thoughts and are taken at face value.
March 2016
I was a voice of reason for Derek. I was the one to say hang on a second when he got too ahead of himself, the one who would tell him to cool it when I was telling him a story and he'd jump ahead with his assumption. Unfortunately, he didn't reach out for my voice when he made the ultimate decision.
I could hate him if I wanted to. Easily. Curse his name, throw him to the wolves... both literal and figurative. But I'm not that 25 year old anymore, looking for retribution at the expense of someone else. I've grown and learned and changed... and right now I'm heartbroken. It continues to come and go, the realization that it's really over and what that means today, tomorrow, and the day after. I have a persistent ache in my chest that rages with an intensity I'd forgotten could exist. I still love him, and I will always love him. He will always be one of my best friends, because I just don't have it in me right now for him not to be. Like I said, one act does not define a person, and he isn't a bad person. He's a lovely person, who is both extraordinarily caring and unfailingly kind. A person who would drop anything he was doing at any given time to honor a request for me. I could wake him up at 3am and say I've got a migraine, and he'd go out for painkillers without a single complaint or question asked. That's how it was from the beginning, right up to the end. None of that is to excuse what happened... for some things in life there is no excuse. But in regards to discussing the merit of a person, the proof is in the pudding.
We both lose here. We both lose a walk down the aisle, the friends on either side of that aisle... we both lose the families we were supposed to share. We lose parts of the past, the moments of the present, and ultimately a future together. And that's sad. It keeps my brain spinning and whirring and trying to find meaning in all of this.
It makes me desperately look at the past and try to discover how I did this before. How I moved on when I felt like I couldn't, how I kept breathing when I felt like I would suffocate. But I didn't leave notes for myself, as it were. I didn't leave a trail of breadcrumbs showing "here you were, Sean, and this is exactly how you got through it." The healing came in the pain, and eventually the time as well.
Living in a world where you want everything right now, that doesn't help. When waiting 3 seconds for a webpage to load seems forever so you just click on something else, learning to live without an extension of yourself seems impossible. I know it's not... I don't need to be told it's not. I just need to feel this and learn from this, and try to make sense of it in any way I can. You all know I love learning a lesson, and there is one here waiting to be uncovered. That's okay. I have patience.
Because I know the lesson will not be a negative one, and even if it was, I'd do my best to spin it in another direction. I'd do my best to turn it into something remarkable.
It was the year that never wanted to end. The year that saw me through three different positions in as many brands, two different cities to call home, two different states to call home, one cross country move, a shitty election, a lot of tears spread over 365 days, and one absolute meltdown in the middle of it all. Leading me to label 2016 as "Sean's Year for an Existential Crisis."
For those of you who have heard the term and never knew what it meant, allow me to illuminate the subject: Existential Crisis; a moment at which an individual questions the very foundations of their life; whether this life has any meaning, purpose or value.
That was me in May, when I had my meltdown at a Starbucks in Austin and rushed to buy a $600 plane ticket home so I could see my family and friends and chill the fuck out (read about it here). Was it a rash decision? Sure it was. Did it help me in the long run? Indeed it did! It's a tough pill to swallow when you have the best year of your life (2012 at 26 years old), and then realize four years later you have no idea how you did it. How did you get happy, how did you make your choices, how How HOW? I kept wondering how I was going to capture lightning in a bottle for a second time, never realizing that to do so was impossible. That instead of bending my life around circumstances and trying to figure it out in the process, I needed to break it.
I left the job I'd been planning on for years, left the city I'd been planning on moving to for years, threw caution to the wind and took a chance. When things get as bad as they were, and without wanting to go on medication to make myself feel better, I figured it couldn't get any worse. And y'know what, for trusting my gut, I was right. Because it didn't get any worse, and it in fact got a whole lot better.
I went into this year all wrong, planning originally on filming the whole thing (thank god I gave up on that one almost immediately!) in order to make myself feel something again. It's interesting in that I look at the pictures my friends from West Elm post on Facebook and Instagram and I feel a strange nostalgia for the city. Perhaps I really didn't give it enough of a shot. Not that I'd ever move back, because I won't, and go ahead and punch me right in the nose if I ever forget how much I hated the humidity and always feeling sticky. But my friends down there do still enjoy it, and they thrive in it, and it makes me so happy to see that. It's what prompted me to develop my resolution for this year, one that I can hopefully stick to but one that doesn't necessarily come with the physical gratification of those in the past (documenting a year of my life, moving out on my own, yadda yadda).
My 2017 New Years Resolution bucks the trend, and because of it I am going to label 2017 as my year of "Turning Around". What does that mean? Well I'm glad you asked! Step into my office that kinda smells like a dirty cat litter box (guess it's time to change the litter (I'm being serious)) and I shall show you!
I spent too long trying to bend my life around the events I felt I couldn't control. Asshole employees ruining your first attempt at being a General Manager? Might as well ignore them and hope they stop. Not making enough money? Better start spending less to compensate. Hate where you live? Just wait until the next season of weather, it'll get better. Hating where you thought you wanted to work? Well, you wanted it, so suck it up and ride it out.
These things thrust themselves into my life and I've become so used to just dealing with them. Spinning them in positive directions, acting like I am my own PR agent and trying to prove to everyone that "hey, this is just as good as I said it'd be! Not HOW I said it would be, but just as good!"
So screw it.
If wisdom comes with age and I'm now another year older and maybe another year wiser, it's time to stop tolerating the things that don't make me happy. It's time to stop shoveling shit and hoping for the best. It's time to take the reins and start turning it all around.
It's time to work hard and prove my worth. It's time to laugh in the face of horrible ailments in people I love, to coach and develop my team into what I need rather than what keeps the drama quiet. To not just skip over the things that make me angry but to push back when I'm getting shoved. I've built a career around being the nice guy that apologizes when I've done nothing wrong, sometimes to the point that it's simply embarrassing. And this resolution is not to say "Watch out, bitch breath is coming!" and it's not to say "I'm a millennial, 'bout time I started acting like one!"
This resolution is to say if I don't like something, it's perfectly acceptable to change it. If it makes me sad, laugh at it. If it makes me angry, work through it. I need to start speaking my mind, to stop fearing the consequences of the thoughts I have running through me all the time, and to just enjoy things. To enjoy the people and places and things that I surround myself with and that I want to be a part of. Feeling unhealthy? Get fit. Feeling fat? Workout. Life is too short to not make myself happy with sometimes the simplest things that can do so.
For 2017, instead of saying I'll lose weight or record the year or move yet again or any number of things, I'm going to say I am just going to be happy, and work at being happy, and strive to be happy. And y'know what? Maybe in 365 I'll have a whole new story to tell.
Winter in the midwest is one of those weird scenarios where you almost need snow and greenery (either fake or real, your choice) to be able to know it's the season. Because lemme tell ya, as stands, I look out my office window and it sure as shit doesn't look like winter. Green grass, cloudy sky, and lots of dead trees. But the trees across the street, while dead and bare, are covered in little red berries that have endured the recent wind storms so that's a nice little pop of color to have in the day. Aside from sight, I do know it's winter on account of my fingers and how cold they are as I write this.
Today we were supposed to have these guys out that were going to brace the basement walls, further compounding the notion that our landlord will probably be moving home next summer and Derek and I will be out of a home. To buy or not to buy, that is the question! The guys were supposed to be here at 9:30 to start work; drilling through the basement walls and attaching these big metal plates to them, then connecting poles to plates they are burying in the back yard. What a headache. Not just the chore for them, but because they didn't get here until noon and I have been a prisoner in the house all day. So what better time than to write a blog and commit myself to producing fresh material for you all to read?
My thoughts too. Allow me to pour myself a glass of wine and continue.
Derek got to endure my annoying perfectionism at its finest last weekend when we went to cut down our first Christmas tree together. I say first, despite this being our third Christmas, because he had no part in it the first year (just came over later that day to hang out), and last year we got our tree from Home Depot. Which means a) it wasn't a real tree because b) it just didn't count and c) that's science. Being in the Midwest has its charms in that cut-your-own tree farms are plentiful, especially when it comes to the Fraser and Balsam Firs, respectively. And that's what I wanted.
Now last year we paid about $85 to take a tree from a parking lot, covered by a tent and smelling like fake pine room spray and motor oil. We could have gone to cut our own down but the variety in the area was... lacking... and I wanted what I wanted. This shouldn't surprise anybody. We packed into Bernice and made the drive north, only half an hour (not bad!) and it was a good day for driving because there was a ton of fog and everything looked kind of magical.
Except the tree farm.
If you've ever driven by the stockyards in California, picture that. Driving out into a field of black mud, expansive and filled with tire tracks of pooled muddy water. To be fair, when Derek called to make sure they were open the gentleman running the joint said yes and to come early because the ground was still frozen. As soon as it thaws, it's a muddy mess. So we were warned and to also be fair, we didn't end up too muddy. The car kinda did. So we parked and walked around and I took the above picture because at first glance, it was perfect.
But it was like a monet, where everything is lovely from a distance and then you get up close and it's a big fartin' mess. Too thin, lopsided, full of weird pinecone things, crooked, too short, too skinny. I can go on. After about twenty minutes of marching around in the snow, Derek and I chose (settled on) one, I got out the saw, and cut it down. We stuffed her in the back of Bernice and probably could have just left without paying because they had no security and no way of knowing who paid for what, but we were good souls and stopped to pay. Half the price of Austin!
I finished the bottle of wine already )c:
After getting the tree decorated and prancing around the house watching Christmas Vacation, Derek and I went to Target to buy the necessary supplies for the much anticipated (...) competition. Ladies and germs, I give you:
The 2016
Second Annual
Gingerbread House
COMPETITION
The contest grew out of a statement Derek made last year when he told me that he could make a better gingerbread house than i could. Me loving a challenge, we purchased identical gingerbread house kits and spent an evening putting them together, shielded by a box between us. We posted the side-by-side picture and let all of you vote. And I won ::tosses hair::
This year we decided to up the ante a little bit. Still using the same house kits, as we did last year, we each had an additional $25 to buy extra food supplies to create our respective visions. We were allowed to purchase ONE object that was not food to include if we wanted to. A week later, we spent a quiet Sunday listening to music and constructing our creations. The prize? If I won, Derek had to watch the Twilight Saga without complaining. If Derek won, I had to do any snow shoveling in the month of December by myself.
Good thing I won.
Derek was a great sport about it though and in the end, it was just a nice time to listen to Christmas music and spend the day together. I was ailing from a quick 'bout of being sick and didn't want to do much else anyway, so spending four hours in the kitchen being creative was just what the doctor ordered.
I know the snow will come sooner rather than later, but I'm content with waiting. Last year it was such a long drag of winter with really nothing to show for it. We went through the motions but it just didn't feel like the yuletide joy we, or at least I, had appreciated so much before. I'm glad I can feel it this year. It's a simple thing, really, but one you don't think you'll miss until it's gone.
So with that being said it's just two weeks until Christmas. Then my birthday, New Years Eve, and 2017 just hop-skip from that. This year took a long time to wrap up, always so quickly though when it gets to be the end. I'll see you in a couple weeks with a few more blogs!
It's time for a reversal of things. To return to an order I used to know and to set things aside that never did for me what I thought they would. To let seansparker.com fade away into obscurity, to move myself closer to my roots, and to start living a life I want to live.
It's time for a return to form that used to make me so comfortable. To write silly little memos, to laugh not only at life but with it. To start stirring the pot just a little bit more and to enjoy the fruits of doing so. To take control of a life that a year ago spun wildly out of control and only recently began driving straight once more.
It's time for trips again. For life outside of the four walls I live in. For changes and experiences and foods and drinks and stories yet to be told. It's time to get off my ass and get into shape, to start feeling better about how I look and not to just wait for things to go my way.
How many times can a person write about a "perfect year" before they pay attention to the words they are using? How many times do I have to write and read and think "life is what you make of it?" Too many times.
That's the answer.
So here we are, back at Blogger, and back to the start. If I ever really wanted to delete it, I would have. But part of me always knew I'd come back. I've published two novels, I'm on the brink of publishing a third, but I'm not famous for it. And until I am, it's more comfortable for me to put on an old hat.
Musings of a Self-Proclaimed Author is back, and it's time to drop the "Formerly" from that title. It was a mouthful anyway.
I want you all to keep a weather eye on the horizon, and bear with me. I feel like I maybe have a grip on this thing once again and it's about time I do.
Once again I sit down to write a blog and find just a smidgen of time longer than anticipated has gone by. I'm used to it at this point, so I shrug and continue onward. I was scrolling through my Timehop this morning and realized with a startle what today is. The time tends to fly as the years go on, and I can't believe I almost forgot about one of my favorite anniversaries.
What a silly boy I am to nearly ignore what today marks...
THE FIVE YEAR ANNIVERSARY FOR
MUSINGS OF A FORMERLY
SELF-PROCLAIMED AUTHOR
Now, I know you just clutched your pearls or respective jewelry at the announcement but yes indeed: my blog is now five years old. An age that means it is ready to really start talking back to me and screaming "You're not my real dad, Jeff!" despite me not being a dad. Or my name not being Jeff. I digress.
Last year when I sat down to write the fifth iteration, my view was very different. I was sitting on a dock in Austin, TX, looking out over the Colorado River and enjoying (somewhat) the 80 degree weather. This year not so much. Right now I am sitting at the patio table in my backyard, listening to the cool breeze blowing through the tree canopy above me. I can hear squirrels chattering, a bird of some sort making little "beep" sounds down the block, and dried leaves blowing across the concrete. The lawn is freshly mowed and the hostas have been cut back to nubs, signs that show winter is on the way and we'll be better for it.
I am better for it. I'm better now than I have been in a long time, and it's amazing how much of that has to do with location.
Iteration blogs tend to become lists of things I either liked or hated in the year preceding, how they occurred or didn't, and then what I have to look forward to in a year's time. I think I've demonstrated fairly deftly all of the things that can occur in a year, but seeing as it's my blog and not yours I get to rehash some of that right now, albeit briefly.
I'd like to think my face is thinner. It's probably just the angle /c:
You start something new in life and you want to start everything fresh too. New city, new house, new job... new hair? A year ago today I buzzed my hair off for the last time, ridding it of the last bits of color and dye that I had put it through over the course of two and a half years. Doesn't get much more fresh than that! It may have also had to do with the slow slip into madness I was enduring, a steady stream of depression flowing through me in those first four months and not really going away for another seven. I've written about it before and still have no shame in admitting it now, because it was the road I travelled.
All I wanted from the blog this last year was to upgrade the web service I used to create it. I said goodbye to Blogger and created seansparker.com. In hindsight I do miss Blogger and the simplicity it offered, but in the same respect the site was a pain in the ass because it had to habit of sometimes deleting my work. You know well enough by now that I don't write as frequently as I once did, so to write something and then have it vanish was just about the worst thing.
So I did what I set out to do and la-dee-da, here we are. I've been admittedly lazy with this site and what it could be, but there's no point in crying about it.
I really like that quote. It about sums up the last twelve months. Sometimes I wish I had never moved and stayed put right where I was. In the same respect I know that wasn't an option for me. Have you ever had your star charts read? I did, in Austin, a couple weeks before we moved to Minneapolis. Some people like to make fun of others for putting faith into things as silly as the zodiac and astral readings, and I don't blame them. It isn't for everyone. But when you have your cards read several times over and they apply directly to your life, you do tend to believe in it.
My star chart had a little area where it showed... I don't know, let's call them "astral lines" over maps of the world. The lines are different colors and mean different things, and there are hundreds of them. So many that you have to select a country and then look at it with the "key" they have to identify what you're looking at. Keeping in mind you don't put any information in about where you're from or where you're going, this logic is all based on where you were born, what day, and what time. Then through what I'm assuming is a combination of Jesus and black magic, they show you all this stuff about your life and who you are predisposed to being as an individual.
There was a black line running directly through Austin, and I asked what it meant. I was told by my reader "you moved here to fix something, but you're not meant to stay here." I thought about it and felt that I had moved down to Texas to fix my relationship with my brother. Not that it was broken, of course. Josh and I never really had much time around each other as adults and I guess in a lot of ways I wanted to see what that relationship was like, a sentiment I later shared with him.
It was a positive relationship, as I felt it would be, but it was neat to look at it in that different light. I was able to run my thoughts over him on that before moving away, both of us knowing it was for the best.
There was a green line going through Minneapolis, and this meant "financial prosperity," amongst other positive things. Moving to this city would mean great things on a career level, both in making more money and ultimately approaching something akin to a dream job. This logic was confirmed this past weekend by a friend of mine back in Wisconsin, who read the cards for me after I'd gone home and saw this same information (without me telling her so). My dream job isn't necessarily with the company I am at right now, not to say I'm unhappy, and also not to say I even know what my dream job is. I suppose I'll know when it hits me between the eyes?
When I asked about the brown line running through my old home in Wisconsin, I was met with her response of "moving back isn't necessary... if you go back you'll be fine, but you won't grow. You'll be stagnant."
I know this all sounds like hocus pocus and stuff and that's fine, even Derek kinda rolled his eyes at it. But to me it was great information. For a person that spent the better part of a year with no direction, feeling lost and alone, wondering where the next step would lead and if the next step was even a wise one... it was golden. It's never a bad thing to get a pat on the back if you're making the right decision, whether that pat on the back comes from clandestine events or not. I had already announced the move to Minneapolis when I had the reading, so finding out it was one of the better choices I could make in life? That was amazing, and so far, it has been.
So where do I want to see the blog go as we enter the sixth iteration?
I want "Musings of a Formerly Self-Proclaimed Author" to revert to what it used to be. Let's start my losing "Formerly" because it just doesn't flow. I started this thing before I'd ever published and a large part of me doesn't even feel like a real author anyway. I don't say that to be a poop, it's just the truth. Maybe when the royalty payments that get direct deposited into my bank account are in the hundreds (re: thousands), I'll change my tune. I'd even think twice if they were in the twenties to be honest, harrumph.
In getting back to my roots I want to start writing freely again. Bring back the "Random Truths," maybe have a guest writer. Maybe conduct some interviews with friends of mine who run their own businesses and see what I come up with? Format isn't something I'm nailed down on and I'd be happy to continue exploring it. Bottom line is that I need to start writing again. I need to make it a part of my daily routine and get stuff out, exploring my thoughts like I used to and feeling a certain amount of zen in doing so.
It's like Lucius sings below: "we'll all be okay." Ciao for now, gang. Look for my return to form soon (c;
I've been tinkering and thinking about this post for a while. Sit down to write, find something better to do, and leave it in my mind to roll around and grow maybe a little stronger. A little bit better. It's not an easy or necessarily fun task to wrap up what you've learned in a year's time, to discover and unfold whatever lessons may have been bestowed upon you... or to really put away anything left unsaid and undone. I didn't know what to even title it, and then got to thinking about Harry Potter and realized how perfectly something from the end of the franchise would apply. And thus, I moved forward.
I think it takes a little bit of time after something has ended for your mind (my mind, really) to come to terms with what happened. A month ago today Derek and I moved to Minneapolis, Minnesota. It was an idea that came about rather quickly in May, unfurling throughout June, and then thrown into action on July 1st when we gave notice to break our newly signed lease 10 months early. I didn't have a concrete job lined up, Derek had no job at all lined up, and we didn't have a place to live. Everything came together in a game of chance and perseverance and we landed in a suburb called Crystal, right-side up.
Granted, we felt this way once before as well.
Because it was a year ago today that we also moved away from Wisconsin to Austin, Texas. It's hard for me to decide if I would still have moved down, if I knew then what I know now, but I think that's the beauty of hindsight.
I find it difficult to put myself in the shoes I was in a year ago. On the brink of some unknown adventure, with no clue what was really in store for me. I remember the first time I moved out on my own, and how hard it was for Ken to deal with me. That move was just across town... less than six miles. I can't imagine how Derek dealt with me after moving 1,800 miles, but I suppose the proof's in the pudding. No affairs and we're still together, happy as clams more or less.
If you want to read about Texas you're more than welcome to, it's all right here in a summation of things. As for me, I'd prefer not to walk down that Lone Star road again because as one of my favorite quotes says, "don't look back, you're not going that way."
When we packed up the truck and subsequently drove away, I didn't feel a single thing other than pure elation. No tightness in the throat about leaving, no sadness of what was shrinking in the rear-view mirror. We make poor choices sometimes in life and this was one of mine. For me there was no emotion over leaving this place behind, instead it's the people... that's what makes me sad. Nothing else really.
Work life never really got my spirits up, and some of you might think that's ironic because who's ever really happy at work? But I can be... I had been before. You should at least enjoy going to work and doing what you do, otherwise you're in the wrong field and you should get the hell out. I just kept waiting for it to get better at the respective jobs and it never did. You can try as much as you want sometimes, it won't make a difference. But what did make a difference were the people. None of them ever hit "best friend" status, and that's okay because maybe they weren't meant to. But they did reach a status where I looked forward to seeing them, where I laughed hysterically to the point of tears with them, and where I cared deeply for their well being.
And I do miss them very much. I miss sharing stories with them and seeing their creative outlooks on life, because if there is one thing that was never missing it was creativity. I worked with such a talented group of people, with such big personalities, that it truly was inspiring. A month on now I'm happy I am still in contact with several of them, be it through Instagram or Facebook of even the occasional Skype session. Forging these friendships kept me sane and for that I'll always be grateful.
So, moving on.
What I find interesting is how once we moved I just couldn't relax. The house we moved into was left in a condition that wasn't very pleasant, so there was a lot of work to be done. Patching walls, painting walls, painting trim, cleaning and cleaning and cleaning. In my mind I felt no different here than I had in Austin, save for the fact that the weather was a little cooler and more tolerable to have the windows open. Derek asked me if I was happier and I kind of shrugged and said "I think so," but in my head I didn't know if I believed it or not. I didn't know if he believed me or not.
I mean... my job is better, and that's something, right? Coming back to Pottery Barn meant coming back to a family I had been sorely missing. After two days the stories behind furniture collections were coming back to me, the names were coming back. Memories and facts and thoughts and ideas and everything in between. West Elm never really caught on for me and I can't help but think it's because in my core, I just didn't want to be there. I didn't want to learn about the collections and I didn't want to adapt to the logic behind how the company ran, because it was different from Pottery Barn and those were the ones closer to my core beliefs. Not to say they were "wrong," they just weren't what I wanted.
Aside from my job, Derek and I weren't doing anything here in Minnesota. We went downtown the night we got here and then didn't go again until just this weekend. We ate out a lot because I didn't want to cook on the dirty stove or put anything in the dirty oven. I also didn't want to actually clean it, because I had a bathroom to scour and a dining room/hallway/office/kitchen to fix, in that order. It wasn't at the top of my list as skewed as it may have been. Add to that a gigantic garden in the backyard, an actual yard that needed to be maintained, and sorting through the numerous boxes (some of which had never been unpacked from the original move). There was a lot to do. So I kept my head down and kept working.
Three weeks after getting here, when I put the last empty box out in the garage and closed the last cupboard, lighting a couple candles and looking around at the completed work, it hit me. Keeping my head down and focused meant working on the only real negatives here, and once I finished, everything else seemed to come into focus. This place is amazing, and while we landed on our feet as we did in Austin, there is something different this time around. Tangible.
I finally live in a single-family home again, with a dedicated office and wall colors I got to pick. With a great big yard in an old neighborhood that is quiet and with friendly neighbors. We both have jobs we're happy at, we live within a fairly short drive home to Wisconsin, and we're making more money than we were down south. The traffic isn't as bad, the heat definitely isn't as bad, and the people are just a little bit nicer. There's less negativity from the people you encounter... less bitterness over the city or the world or the climate. Maybe that's just a Midwest thing, maybe it's not.
Hopefully in the end what this all means is that with everything falling into place, it will allow Derek and I to work on the things in our relationship that maybe aren't the best in the world. Not to say they're bad, because they aren't, but it can always be better. There is a whole new world for us to explore right now and we haven't even attempted to scratch the surface of it. In a couple weeks the colors on the trees will start changing, throwing us into my favorite season of the year, fall. Pumpkins and spices and festivals and cool days and sweaters and coats and cloudy skies and rain and wind.
It might be a hell to some people but to me it's paradise.
In the end there is really just one thing to say about what the last year of my life taught me. Was Austin the worst place in the world? Not at all. But Austin wasn't for me and that's okay to say. Living there taught me a very important life lesson: you might not always find a better life in what you thought was the city of your dreams, but there's nothing wrong with trying and ultimately deciding against it. It's how we grow and learn as human beings. A year ago today I started closing up, shutting out certain people from my life and shouldering forward as strongly and sometimes stubbornly as I could. Trying to learn lessons but mostly just being miserable and even more closed and bitter. Now that it's over, now that the ducks are all in a row here in Minnesota, I can feel myself opening back up.
It's a wonderful and exciting thing to feel and experience, and it makes me look back somewhat fondly on my experience in Texas. If it hadn't been for Texas, I wouldn't have lost my voice and subsequently found it once more. I wouldn't have realized what I'd been taking for granted in Wisconsin for so long, and I wouldn't have realized how much I'd miss it when it was gone. It took just three weeks of rumination for me to bounce back, to breathe in deeply, and to find more reasons to smile. 21 days before I wanted to start writing again, to start editing, to start working on art projects. It makes me wonder what comes next?
Because as the solid year of life changes and monumental choices comes to an end, indeed, I've opened at the close.
A couple of weeks ago I had a nervous breakdown. I don't say it in a real light sense... not like "OMG, I can't believe Nashville might not be coming back next season!" but more of the hyperventilating "my life has no direction" kind of way. Here, I'll explain. Get cozy because this one's long.
I've written about my transition down to Texas in more than just one blog, and somehow along the way I lost sight of wanting to write about anything else. I used to have such (in my eyes) fun and random stories to share, some thought-provoking and others funny and lighthearted. The stories became different once the move happened, and while I still had the desire to write, all I wanted to do was complain. Whine about missing my friends, my family, my old job, the heat down here, etc. etc. It's no one's fault but my own that I decided to cut myself off from writing, and I"ll own it. First turning the monthly updates into quarterly updates, slowing down with what came in-between, and then stopping all-together. I can tie that into my conversations with friends as well, months at a time going by between actual conversations let alone even texting them. My friends ask how I've been and what I've been up to, and suddenly the reason for our lack of communication is apparent.
I haven't been up to anything. Nothing.
There's been no writing, no blogs and no books. I haven't been doing new things (or old things) and I haven't been going to new places. I've been working. You can sprinkle some Book III editing in their as well, but I mostly go to and from work and then watch TV or movies with Derek. And that's it; that's all she wrote. Where possibly a million and one things may have changed for my friends that they want to share with me (and I'm more than willing to listen, of course), I have about a million things less to lay out on my own end of the line. My big changes ended after I moved down here with Derek in September, switched jobs a couple of times, and then awkwardly landed on my feet with a steady determination to hobble forward. I have not been happy. I have not been loving it. And admitting that lifts a tremendous weight from my shoulders. Shoulders that have been busy barreling forward as I've kept my head down in the process.
Two weeks ago I was sitting at the very same Starbucks that I am right now, in the very same seat as I am right now, and trying to write the Spring 2016 update. After a few failed attempts in writing a couple of paragraphs, I deleted my work and retitled the blog "when it comes to updates," intent on telling everyone there would be no more of that series. If there had been a time for monthly, scratch that, seasonal updates on my creative and carefree life, it has long since passed. Because I just don't feel that way anymore.
When I first created the blog I simultaneously created a version of myself to go with it. Have you ever heard of the term Facebook Depression? It's a real thing I guess, prevalent in teens and adults in a mid-life crisis, and occurs in people who see how great other's lives "appear" to be on Facebook, even if the reality of those lives may not be that great. I started the blog site right before kicking "26 Golden Things" into high gear, constantly publishing essays and letters and talking about all of the amazing things I was doing with my year. The persona of "Sean Parker; self-proclaimed author" grew and grew in a witty, funny, sarcastic, cerebral person that had real emotions and experiences to talk about and subsequently the lessons to be learned from each in turn.
You can chalk it up to being single and having loads of free time on my hands while living with my parents. The writing came easy to me because I wanted to share my life with people, with you. To put things out to the ether and stir up conversation, as it were. Just two short years later things changed again; it got harder for me to write because I'd settled into a complacency of life. And then the writing became a chore and something I neglected because it meant shining a light on how extremely ordinary my life was.
The Facebook Depression hit me because of me. I frequently looked back on those old blogs with rose-tinted glasses, imaging my life was so much greater than it really was. Don't get me wrong, I loved nearly every minute of 2012, but capturing lightning in a bottle is difficult at the best of times. Re-capturing said lightning is damn near impossible, so instead I just kept trudging forward.
That isn't to say there weren't exciting things happening in my life, because there were. I met Derek and planned our move to Austin and plenty happened between then and moving. The difference was that in the harsh light of day, when I was sharing these events with someone else right away, the ability to be a writer and flourish the stories for comedic or dramatic effect at a later time was gone. Not that I couldn't flourish things still, I just didn't want to write anything someone would read and think "Well, it didn't happen exactly like that..."
And then to share it with all of you? That meant writing notes to recall the details later, and then force myself into completing what felt like a homework assignment so you could maybe or maybe not read it. With a lack of comments on my blogs (ever) it gets hard to keep moving with them like you've got a purpose. At some point you are just writing to write, though I suppose there's nothing inherently wrong with that as it allows you to revisit your thoughts at a later date. What is wrong with it, however, is that those thoughts are coming out through a verrrrrry strong filter and that filter isn't doing you any favors in the grand scheme of things. But I digress.
When Derek and I moved down here, and I achieved the biggest goal I've ever set before myself in that of leaving my world behind. Friends, family, job, home, climate, familiarity, the works. Right before we moved my position at the store I'd be working at fell through. In the blink of an eye, every warning and red flag that could possibly exist was thrown up high in the air. Like a referee at a soccer game throwing the red card, barreling down on a bunch of kids and screaming foul. But at that point and being two weeks away from driving down, my mind was saying "well it's too late now. You have to go."
Which the truth is, I didn't have to.
My job at Pottery Barn was safely intact and mine for the taking if I decided to stay, so that covers money and health insurance. I'd have to move back to my parents home for a couple of days to figure out where I was going to be living (because I had given notice and my apartment was already re-rented), and Derek and I would have lost out on our security deposit from the Austin house. Big deal. Knowing now what was lying in wait for me once we got here was a thousand times worse than just bucking up and dealing with the loss of some money. But none of that was enough to get me to stop the move. One other fact was big enough though: the opinion of everyone who knew I was moving and what they would think when I didn't follow through after talking about it for so long.
In hindsight it seems like such a trivial thing but in the moment it wasn't, and I think it is only something you can appreciate in said hindsight. Or maybe it comes with age... maybe turning 30 has finally made me realize "who fuckin' cares?" when it comes to matters of what will make me happy. Knowing what I know now I should have just shrugged it off, flat-out said "the job fell through, but that's okay!" and gone on with my life in Wisconsin. But that's not the way the cards fell.
Anyway, let's go back to two weeks ago.
I started writing the new blog about ending the monthly updates. Deleted it, restarted it. Deleted it again, went to restart it again, and then a sudden thought hit me square in the face, almost like a switch had been flipped. And I kid you not, dramatic as it may sound, these words went scrolling right behind my eyes: Your life has no direction.
That's a hard bullet to bite. That's a... shit-tastic revelation at the end of a somewhat shitty journey from who I was to whoever the hell I am going to be. I had a hat on already (my hair is getting longer and I didn't want to style it, so sue me), and quickly put my sunglasses on because I was starting to cry. And I turned my head and faced the wall and covered my mouth, squeezing the tears out and letting it all hit me at once. Finally.
I never cried when we moved, I never got that real release. The cats were distracting me in the car and I only choked back a few tears before the feeling in my throat had gone. A few weeks after we got here, Derek and I were talking and I was upset and choking up and he told me it was alright to cry. But I didn't want to. Through every hardship we are born again, stronger and better, and I felt like this was true to me too. I'd wanted this move for so long and so badly that I needed to just suck it up and deal with it. Come out swinging like a champ, as it were.
But a champ for who? For me? Hard pass!
In my mind, admitting Austin wasn't for me, admitting the move wasn't for me, was a failure. It meant I did not achieve one of my goals and that type of failure was so monumentally heartbreaking. As I said before, I just kept my head down and worked through it. Ignoring it was better than acknowledging it, and it made the time pass all the same.
So I texted Katie and unleashed a torrent of words and thoughts, some justified and some justifiably insane, and she talked me down from the ledge without being patronizing or giving me the kind of advice I didn't want to hear. By ignoring it for as long as I had and not talking about it for as long as I had, I'd created this monster inside my thoughts. My outlet has always been my words. I used to put so much faith in them, my own form of church where I could put my thoughts out and repent for whatever sins they may have created in me. But keeping myself on lockdown didn't do me any good. It didn't do anyone any good. Like poison in the well, it drained the life from me, from my relationship with Derek, and from my relationships with my friends.
I talked to him that night about a lot of things that had been bothering me, most of which were entirely beyond his control. But being my boyfriend/best friend/lover/partner, he had a right to know about them. But that's just Derek, and whatever damage has been done on my account can hopefully be corrected quickly enough because he's always willing to try. It was the other people in my life I was worried about, and I decided then and there I was also going to fly home the next week.
I had an excuse to go back to Wisconsin due to an impending surgery for a loved one (that turned out to be something very minor), but it was enough to warrant me buying an expensive last-minute ticket and getting the hell out of dodge. I've had dreams since moving away, of the people and places that were left behind in the move. Wondering what they looked like, what they felt like, wondering if and how they may have changed. Suddenly it was all I could think about, all I could obsess about. I felt as if I was going back to reclaim the missing piece of my soul and I still wish I knew why I felt like that. More on it later, perhaps?
We only moved twice when I was growing up. Once was from the house where I was born to another a few miles away, and then once was from California to Wisconsin. We went back to visit for the first couple summers but after that we stopped. It was too expensive for the most part, and there were less and less people to see from them either moving away themselves or just from losing touch. Facebook wasn't a thing. The point is, once we left it behind, it was really left behind. But moving away from Wisconsin was different.
In a lot of ways, the day I left I felt like I would never come back. Not to visit, not to live. To me it was the end of an affair. Of course I had visits planned, but they seemed like pipe dreams because I was headed off to the promised land and I'd catch you all later. But as time went on, I found myself longing for the familiarity of it all. The weather in Austin only got below 30 a handful of times, and while some of you are probably thinking "HA! Must be NICE!" in reality, it wasn't. I'm a winter child, I like the cold, and not having it meant not having a comfort I had come to know. I didn't wear a single jacket all winter long down here (and we all know how I love my jackets) and compounding it was the fact that this was a warm winter for Austin and a warm winter back in Wisconsin. Because why wouldn't it be? The first winter after I move away and it's a mild and easy one, not freezing my garage door shut or stopping my car from starting.
I only told a couple of people I was coming home. My sister so she could arrange a BBQ to surprise my parents, Caitlin so that she could arrange a bonfire to surprise Leah and John, and Stacey so that I could know who was working when I planned on stopping in at the store. Otherwise it was all surprises.
That plane view
I was an emotional wreck leading up to the day of departure, and I cried a fair amount during the actual flight, hidden behind my trusty sunglasses and looking out the jet window. Got to Green Bay at about 10:45am on Friday, got my rental car in record time, and was on my way with wide eyes like I'd never seen anything so wonderful as I41 Southbound through Green Bay and onward to Appleton. I was like an addict, starved for the sights and sounds and smells of a place I used to take for granted. Maybe it's because I have a freak memory and notice minute details but in Green Bay and throughout Appleton all weekend I was noticing differences.
I used to freely tell people how Appleton was a place that was easy to live in but a place where nothing ever changed. That's simply not true. Plenty of things changed, they just took a while to get there. Perhaps it's as simple as needing to take a step away to appreciate something for what it is. Like a rocky relationship, you don't realize certain things while you're on the inside. It takes some sort of life event, some sort of preternatural force, to push you away and wipe away that elusive rose-tinted glass I mentioned earlier. This fresh perspective allows you to see what was happening around you the entire time.
I feel that we choose to be victims of our own circumstances because it's just easier that way. After nine months of being gone I was able to go back home and see how much has changed. Old roads were new again. Big shining buildings filled once empty fields. Apartment complexes and house were not only new, but now full of life. Was I a fool to think this wouldn't happen? A fool to believe things would remain perfect and tidy in my absence, like they were hibernating until my return? Of course, but now a fool made the wiser. Perspective is a fickle thing.
My first stop was Tina's house. The newest of my five bests (three years strong), and also the one I spoke to the least after moving. There was no reason for that, it is just how life happened. Surprising her at her front door was a success and there were definitely some tears shed before we spent the next couple hours talking and catching up. I found myself sitting there and listening to her talk and realizing that I could no longer remember some of the smallest details of her life. It was like they had never existed in my mind... hidden behind a veil called time. She shared with me that a week before, she'd been on her way to the grocery store and was thinking about me and how our relationship had mostly tumbled into the sandy ashes of failed attempts before. That maybe our story ended with me moving away... and that was it. Then I texted her to ask about a phone call the next week (me setting up the surprise).
Tina and I
She was emotional when she got that message and let me know it, telling me her thoughts on the matter with no filter, as we have a habit of doing with each other, which I needed to hear and appreciated so much more than I can say. Her words were a slap in the face as I came to understand several internal revelations. It was no coincidence that the first person I was seeing was also the one shaking me awake, bringing me back to life. Indirectly showing me that by keeping my head down for nine months and "shouldering through," I had forgotten the very people who made me who I was.
I felt such immediate shame, unbeknownst to her, and so much regret. Regret that I had turned a blind eye to the past, and regret that I would have ever let my most cherished relationships get to this point.
I explained to her my thoughts on holding conversations with friends after months had passed, and how I felt like I had nothing to share in those conversations on account of my gloomy attitude towards life in the South. She understood, of course, because she's my best friend and that's her job... but there was something more in it. I'm reminded of a Chinese proverb, "an invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, and circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break." She's my best for a reason.
Caitlin and I
After seeing Tina, I had a wonderful lunch with Caitlin and caught up with her life since seeing her and her husband Joe in March when they visited Austin. Her impending move to Nashville draws ever closer, and we had so many things to discuss as we ate Mexican food and then walked to get some coffees. It could have been just any other day for as normal as it felt, as if I was just off of work and putzing around with nothing to do. The ease of it was heartbreaking.
We would see each other later in the evening, so I left her and drove around town for a bit. I drove past my old apartment, through that neighborhood to see all of the newly constructed houses, and then made a stop for drinks at the grocery store before making my way to my sister's house.
Brynley, Brayden, and Belynn
I had some time there to catch up with my sister Megan and her husband Tony, and of course the three little ones. Eventually my parents came and I succeeded in surprising them, almost sure my mom had figured it all out ahead of time. But if she did, she didn't let on. It was great to see everybody after so much time, these gatherings having occurred once every other month or so in the past. My sister's kids had each grown so much in my absence,and it was a welcome relief they still remembered me. I don't know why I had this fear they wouldn't, but there it is.
From the BBQ I went to Leah and John's house, surprising them at a bonfire. As we four sat and chatted the way we used to, it was as if no time had passed. That my greatest fears, those of being forgotten, were misplaced. It felt like sliding back into a warm hug after too long in separation. Conversation was smooth, laughs were frequent, and the smiles were wide. I could have cried at any moment in relief, satisfaction, happiness, joy, or any combination of the few.
Leah, Caitlin and John
Sleep came easy that night at my parents house, the manor, before spending the next morning catching up and then making my way out to the mall to continue my mission of shock and awe. Like David Mitchell wrote in Cloud Atlas, "we cross and recross our old tracks like figure skaters." I sat in the rental car in the parking lot of the mall and read a book, waiting for the time to pass before going inside. A woman walked by my open window, leading her granddaughter to their vehicle. When I looked up at her I realized she was one of the secretaries from my high school.
Another piece of the puzzle seemed to fall into place in my head, everything continuing to make a little more sense. That we are bound to our pasts due to a longing to somehow keep it in sight; at least I in particular can say I'm bound to my past, even if no one else agrees. It is what makes me who I am, it always has been, and at some point I forgot that. I wish I knew why?
I visited my former co-worker at Express, Trish, and her reaction when she saw me was one of the many that made my trip worth it. She told me she thought she was seeing a ghost, a sentiment echoed by several people over the weekend. I didn't take it in a negative way, as no negativity was meant, but it did strike me how it'd be so odd for me to appear that I must be a ghost. It cemented the notion in my mind of feeling like I'd left something behind forever, vanishing from my home of 18 years and never to return.
When I left Express and walked a little further through the mall, I was standing in front of Pottery Barn. Tracing my footsteps through the doors was like stepping back into a dream, conveniently and coincidentally on the four-year anniversary of beginning to work there in the first place. I couldn't help but to think back on my first day at the store, not knowing what I was doing at all and wondering if I'd made a big mistake leaving Express. I didn't know what the difference was between different types of cushion fill in a sofa, I didn't know what the difference was between Earthenware and Ceramic plates, and I was certainly too afraid to untuck my arms for fear of breaking stuff like a bull in a China shop.
I walked around the store several times, remembering the minute details and small (and big) instances of all sorts of things that transpired within those walls. The good stuff. The bad stuff. The smell of the store itself brought to me a familiarity and emotion that was nothing short of amazing. I held some great conversations and partook in some long overdue hugs, and then I was on my way again to surprise Mark.
Mark and I
Mark and I had a phone chat planned on the calendar because I said I had something important to discuss with him. He didn't realize it would be an in-person chat until I was ringing his doorbell and he was screaming in delight. We spent a few hours catching up on the back porch and split a bottle of wine between us, the hidden details of our lives coming out in stories that we only share with each other. The connection was solid. After a while we drove off to meet Tina and some friends for a quick cocktail before coming home to surprise Mark's husband-to-be, Markus. From there it was another dinner of Mexican food (must have been the theme) and went to surprise Kyle at his bar.
He was of course surprised, why wouldn't he be, and our conversation was just as easy and immediate as it has always been for us. Distance was never a factor in my relationship with Kyle, because it was built on distance in the first place. He is one of my oldest bests, and whether he was living in Chicago or me in Austin, that connection still remains. We didn't stay out long that night, I had another early morning the next day and the boys needed to get some sleep as well.
Kyle and I
Sunday morning I met Stacey and her little one for breakfast at Sap. Stacey is who I've kept in touch with the most since moving, as we both get caught up in long texting conversations that can span hours. She is also the person who kept me on the phone for the last three hours of my 23 hour marathon drive to Texas. We caught up and chit-chatted about all sorts of things coming up for both of us, and really just had a nice time connecting. After breakfast I went home to the manor, visited with my parents for a bit, and then it was time to leave for the airport.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't leaving Wisconsin as a different person from when I arrived.
Getting onto the plane it felt as if a visor had been lifted from my head. That by keeping my head down for so long I had forgotten what I was really missing; interaction with my friends. Interaction with the people who knew me before I was some self-proclaimed author, before I was a blogger, before I was a lifeless shell that had moved across the country in pursuit of something he didn't really quite understand other that it "being better." All I can figure is that with moving to Texas, I simply planned on something and had every last hope in it, and it didn't work out. My mind just couldn't fathom something not working out. I mean, if everything else usually does, why not this? What was that saying... "if everything's going your way expect shitstorms?"
I think what I needed was to see that everything was still there, in Wisconsin, waiting for me. That no one forgot. That no one treated me any different. That it was okay if I needed to leave for a while, because it'd be right there when I got back. There was always the underlying fear there'd be no welcoming arms... that maybe my friendships had been a sham from the start. Unwarranted fears, yes, but still there. I suppose at the end of the day I have a lot trust issues.
I was so scared to say I'd made a mistake moving because it felt like admitting to that was admitting to failure. It took a little time and a whole lot of perspective for me to understand it was not a failure in the least. I wanted to move to Austin before I turned 30, and I did! There wasn't a note tagged on to the end of the statement that said "and live there forever and ever, happily every after." The goal was simply to move here. In hindsight I should have figured out what came next before acting, but I didn't. So now what? What is the next step? I have a habit of writing out prophesies for myself and busting my ass to bring them to fruition, so what will the next chapter hold for me?
People are surprised when they hear me say I don't love Austin, and that's fair. I can list things for a solid 20 minutes that can be done at any time in this city. From exciting places to eat featuring ridiculous donuts you can't even imagine to the best queso to the best Mexican Martinis and onward. From cool movie theaters to neat venues to bars that are run by hipsters to bars that are run by crotchety old ladies that know how to make a good drink. From exotic exposed underground pools to floodplains to waterfalls. But for a person that's always been a bit of an introvert and found a guy to date that is just as much of one, none of that means much. I need to live in a place that's a whole lot greater than just the sum of its parts.
And it has nothing to do with work. Work is great... the people I spend my days with are great, and if not for them I'd be a big puddle of misery on the floor. But that's just a small part of the grand equation, y'know?
I didn't move down here to "finally be happy" or anything like that. Living in Wisconsin had me being plenty happy. But I would be lying if I said I didn't move down here to be happier. Maybe my mind built things into too grandiose of an image? Something that was going to be hard to achieve and harder to topple. Somehow I did topple that image, almost like a picture from a camera that you moved your hand in. Looks good for the most part but when you lean in to examine it there's something just not quite right. And that's okay. After going home, even for a brief time, it feels like having the key to my own mind again... turning it slowly in the lock, pushing the door slowly open, and allowing a little bit of light to bring my world to life again.
There are some potentially big changes coming for Derek and I in the next few days and I'll keep everyone abreast of the situation after it has unfolded. But for now I'll wrap up with a quote that I shared a couple of years ago and I feel still applies today.
I am not what has happened to me; I am what I choose to become.
