I am sitting right now in the Junebug cafe - my favorite place in JP. That's not far off from what I'm doing every week, as I often find myself here for several hours at a time, disappearing into my thoughts through writing. This time, though, is slightly different. First, I sit here with one of my best girls, "D" who wanted to try her hand at writing, and was looking for some inspiration. Second, and obviously what this post is about, is the fact that I now live only a few blocks away from this place that has quickly become my book-writing mecca. I am at peace in this moment as I type away at my computer with my friend beside me and a passion fruit bubble tea on the table. However, as much as I am at peace in this particular moment, I feel my insides ready to explode from the torture I have subjected them to with my nomadic lifestyle.
I was dreading yesterday. I hated the thought of packing my clothes. And moving them. Again. I hated the thought of not being across the street from "J" anymore. I had become so accustomed to walking across the street at midnight to crawl into bed with him. Waking up in the morning, leaving him there to sleep while I went home to get ready for work. I loved our life. It was like living together - light. I was dreading this move, knowing it would require more planning and effort when we had become so used to impulsive and easy. I left his apartment on Friday night with a very heavy heart and headed back to my apartment in Southie for the last time.
I woke up yesterday morning and started the process. I was miserable. Through some amazing self-therapizing, I realized that moving has become synonymous with anger and disappointment, as the last few times have been laden with those emotions. I also realized that the reason moving is so depressing for me right now is because I am moving into yet another temporary situation, where I will not hang any of my pictures, put away any of my dishes, or have the ability to take a shower any time I want. No, these are luxuries I gave up a long time ago - and I have been going "backwards" ever since. I have been talking to "J" about my feelings toward moving for the past few weeks. I found it impossible to hide these emotions from him. I wanted him to be a part of this move. I wanted him to be the security I was searching for. The comfort that moving always left me longing for. Moving meant lonely. And I was tired of that feeling.
As I sit here today I wish I could say that yesterday was different for me. That it didn't leave me feeling those things. That I walked into my new place and felt "home". Instead, I packed up my car and drove out of Southie alone, and pulled up at the new house and started unloading my belongings. I carried my blow-up bed to my room where I sat and watched missed episodes of The Office. And cried. Because I miss that feeling of falling asleep on the couch. And of making breakfast un-interrupted. And leaving my coat on the back of the kitchen chair. I miss the feeling that comes with a home - no matter what kind of home it is.
I am still upset. And I'm trying so hard not to be. I wish that it had gone differently, and that I would be able to finally look at moving in a positive way. But I'm not there yet. To me, moving means temporary and sad. It means living with strangers. It means another undetermined amount of time where I will only feel comfortable in a small section of a house. But, it also means new friends. And I am really looking forward to building relationships with the kick-ass girls who are my new roomies. When no one else was there to welcome me home, they did. With smiles and hugs. And, you know, that alone is more than I have had during any of my recent moves. So, it's already looking up. I have a good feeling about my next move. That it will be a place I can call home. And hang a picture. And FINALLY put my Christmas present from LAST year on MY fridge (thanks, KB!). Yeah, I'm slowly getting there. In the meantime, I will learn what I can from this experience, and keep notes for my next book. I am glad knowing that when a friend comes to me in the future, and is feeling unsettled, I can offer my experience as a small amount of solace - and hopefully they will be able to find some peace from my struggle.
But, if "struggle" means every weekend walking to the Junebug and sipping on bubble tea, I think I'll be just fine.
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