It's A Beautiful Morning

I don't know how I let this slip by. I was reading through my recent blogs last night just out of curiousity. I have a terrible memory so even I forget what's going on with me or when the last time I felt this or that was. I guess it's a damn good thing it's all written down. So I read Extraordinary Machine from December 31 and was shocked at what I read. I cited RC's theory of two year cycles to support my feeling that I am now ready to move on with my life, that the journey of the past two years is over. That I can finally see through the mist that had been surrounding me. It's true. And that's huge. It's ridonculous; that's how huge it is. My life can start moving forward. I can start progressing instead of maintaining, trying to stay afloat. I can start painting again instead of staring at the blank canvas paralyzed because I have no inspiration. I am no longer locked in hell.

I have arrived on the bank of another island. I've swam through rough waters, salt water burning my throat, legs so tired I thought they'd give out on me. I navigated the water on a boat through storms so thick I couldn't see a finger in front of me and definitely couldn't see the land I was headed for. My only goal was to stay alive. It wasn't quality. It wasn't making it to the new island. That was far beyond anything I could conceive. My goal was always to make it through the night. And I was grateful for every night I did make it through. I was too grateful to ask for anything more.

I remember writing,"It's funny how it's almost been a year (since the break-up with Illinois). I have spent this entire year trying to will time to pass; learning instantly that the only thing that would enable me to strengthen was the passage of time. Tunnel vision. I missed out on a lot this year in furtherance of that goal. I missed the first snow. I missed seeing my name in print for the first time, a life long goal. I missed starting my new job. I missed making new friends and starting life after Illinois. I missed Valentine's Day and New Year's Eve and Thanksgiving and St. Patrick's Day and Christmas and Labor Day and July 4 th. I missed A moving to L.A.. I missed reconnecting with D in L.A. and celebrating J's 30th Birthday with her in Vegas. I missed participating in my first federal trial. I missed that I made all sorts of new friends at my new job. I missed tasting all of the different flavors of muffins that I baked every weekend all winter to pass the time. I missed the many crazy nights I had the recklessness I haven't known since I was in law school. I missed countless movies and countless books. I missed the pride I should have felt that I was finally able to sleep through the night without taking some sleep aid or getting drunk or smoking weed or all of the above. Or that I was able to sleep with my phone off. Or that I was able to acknowledge that I didn't want Illinois to come over and sleep next to me. I didn't allow myself to stop and take anything in. I couldn't. It was full speed ahead all the time. The alternative was too scary. The alternative was too dangerous. I am not able to dwell yet but I can go to certain places in my mind with a lot more ease than I had even one month ago. How do I get the time to stop now? That's what I need to do. I want it to slow back down again. I want to take it all in. I want to savor this growth I am experiencing."

And "[N]ow. Life has been a freefall for months. It feels like the world finally stopped spinning and I landed here. I am like Dorothy was spinning and spinning in the tornado. I hope my house didn't land and kill any wicked witches. Nothing is familiar. I feel like I am in an alternate universe. Everything is brand new. I have all of these choices. I have a new life with new friends. I have a new apartment (with AC). I have a new job (the criminal defense firm). What must the people at work think of me when they have only known me as this girl. They didn't know me before. I spent many months crying in my office with the door closed after a sleepless night. How did I work? How am I still there? It feels like I just started but I have been there for close to a year. It feels new because I haven't really been there for close to a year. My body has been there taking up space but I have been all over the map, not stopping anywhere for more than a few minutes. My mind unable to focus on anything but survival for more than a few minutes. How did I do it. How did I not fuck up my life? How did I preserve so many good things for myself without even trying? That's just beautiful. It may as well be somewhere over the window in emerald city for as weird as it feels. And like the rainbow, there is an entire universe of colors and understanding and new feelings that I have now that I have never had before. All of this new information about myself and my life and what I want and what I care about and what's important and how to be happy and how to quiet my inside. It's unreal. A whole other universe of colors. I am somewhere over the rainbow. I am walking around checking things out, seeing if I like this new life, this new me. It is why I am so exhausted. It is why I am so in my head. Part of me is shocked that the world stopped spinning finally. Part of me is shocked that I am no longer despondent. Part of me is shocked that it's okay over here where I am. A year later. A year to the day after my D&C where I was crying like the baby that I was losing. Life has a luster I have never known."

I had the feeling every time I miraculously felt better after being deathly ill this past summer and fall. It's so weird. But now it's different because I know I am in Emerald City for good. I live here now. I am never going back to Kansas and the tornadoes they get there.

I love it love it love it. It's miraculous. I am not a slave to my circumstances or a victim of fate. I am in control. I am at the new job today, the one I risked losing my (surprisingly) good reputation for at two agencies. I am finally starting to hook up my apartment that I have lived in since July. Besides what my mother did when she was over, I had made no self improvements. It looked like I just moved in. There were still boxes. I still didn't have certain necessary items and was making do as if I was only visiting. I could barely wash a dish throughout most of the time I lived there; that's how weak I was with sickness. Meanwhile, yesterday I used a toothbrush to scrub in between the tiles in the shower. I put up new curtains in my bedroom. I washed a bunch of my sweaters. I cleaned all the floors and changed the sheets. I washed my yoga mat. I bought sheets to tie-dye for the lovely yoga angels who saved me when I passed out aeons ago in October in yoga. I was going to take it a step further and go through my clothes. I have all the new clothing from my massive shopping spree then I have all of the old clothing that is now too big. I don't know how long the weight's going to stay off so I don't want to get rid of my fatty girl apparel but I would like to get it out of my apartment. I am making concrete changes, taking concrete risks, putting myself out there in the world again, settling in to my apartment and life and making myself comfortable there. For the next two years at least.