Oh November, are you a self-fulfilling prophecy of suckage? Have I subconsciously turned you into the worst month, or is it just the way the universe operates?
I’m typing this from the guest room at my parent’s house in Hamilton, my very first room, hoping against hope that I am in fact a guest, and not a new roommate.
Today I looked my life in the eye with love and acceptance and said “You’re right, it’s not working” and then I watched as it a fair chunk of it crumbled down around me. I then moved in slow-motion through the rest of my day packing everything I could into two suitcases and four canvas bags. I kissed my step-bits and told them I was going on a little vacation to see my parents, and walked away from my home, where I cannot live anymore, and will very likely never live again.
I fell deeply asleep in the passenger seat of the car, and jolted awake thinking my real life had been a bad dream, only to realize that it was very real indeed, and very much my life. My first official Hamilton experience was the desperate collection of souls in the local Wendy’s. I cried into my $9 salad. I’m 34 and back in my old bedroom. In Hamilton.
As I type this, I have no idea what is going to happen next. Today I decided with great certainty that the only thing I can focus on is taking care of myself. I realized too that with this immense heartache comes the first opportunity I’ve had to sit with all of the pain and loss of the last six years, without job pressures or social distractions to cloud the way. I’m going to unravel myself now, and use the threads to build a cocoon.
Those sick days that I’ve been fantasizing about for so long will now become my day-to-day until I can figure out what’s next. I will read, write, sleep, think, and move slowly and carefully through my stasis. All forces are equal and opposing and they’ve canceled me out.
The moon was the faintest sliver tonight, perched in a sky that was divided into sunset colours like Neopolitan ice cream. It was the tiniest thread of hope, and eventually it will see it’s way to full again. I wonder where I’ll be then?
A clear picture of what the ocean looks like goes a long way towards helping pass the miles along the way.