I haven’t yet checked the date of my last blog entry, but I know it was quite a while ago. There have been so many wonderful adventures in the interim, and so many things that I really wanted to say to the world, but I was in a car, in a rush, in a fit of giggles, and completely out of reception. I logged in to Facebook a couple of times when we had service passing through the mountains, and I managed to squeeze out a couple of Instagram photos, but uploading an entire blog post was a little too heavy for what the universe was able to provide.
I do want to fill you in on all that is happening, and time is slowly being made available to do that, so bear with me. I still have to pull the photos off of my camera, which is currently somewhere in my new room – which is completely filled with boxes from the move. Not to mention, trying to find the cable I need to get those pictures.
Anyhow, immediately following our roadtrip across the Southwest and the week long alternative existence that is Burning Man, we landed in Boulder on Monday, sometime in the afternoon. I was feverish, sore, tired, sick of being in a car (with people), and locked out of my new apartment. It was really hard in that moment to keep my chin up, but I did it! I took care of some lose ends while I waited for one of my roommates to get home, and my possessions arrived finally, which meant that I would indeed have a bed to sleep on that evening! This was a glorious accomplishment after spending almost two weeks sleeping elsewhere, and over two months sleeping in places that were temporary. There is something to be said for sleeping in a bed that is yours. It helped me feel home.
The very next day, still sickly but no longer feverish, I got Ellette to school, unloaded more from the trailer, and then went to begin my new life as a Frequent Flyers Pro-Track Aerial Dance Student! I was excited, nervous, and exhausted. I refused to let my anxiety take over – which is a pretty big thing for me. Normally, I would be a paranoid mess, wondering if anyone would actually like me, and how I would make a fool of myself, and being a total clutz on the equipment. This group of ladies that I am spending my days with though – pretty amazing and supportive, and what charms me most is the ease to talk about their own insecurities. Turns out – we all have them.
Today is the third day of week 1. I’m already feeling more comfortable and sure of my place here. Now, it’s a matter of finding balance. I’m rushing around still trying to move in, feel settled, handle the adult things like paperwork, money, groceries, and whatever else it is that adults are supposed to do. Every morning I’ve been waking up, eager to attack the chaos around me, and every evening I go to bed, thinking I’ve hardly accomplished anything. As I write this, I can tell you that I do see the progress I’ve made – my bathroom is almost completely set up, laundry from the Burn has almost been completed, several boxes have been completely unpacked and put away, and most of my paperwork is complete. Tomorrow I start a new job, and hopefully this all works out. What I must remember is that I cannot put all of the things on my to-do list for one day. That is not at all possible.
I’ve been thinking about this past summer, and how alive I have felt throughout it all – jumping from place to place, working on neat little projects, meeting so many new people, and watching my path unfold in a very positive direction. I jumped, knowing that it would be difficult, exhausting, and frightening – that sometimes I would feel disheartened and the struggle would seem too much, and that sometimes it would all be too good to be true – and totally expect the former to be more common than the latter but the end result would be totally worth it all. I didn’t realize that I was running from anything until I got here, and after the feelings settled, I saw that Chicago had been such a terrible mess for me, dragging me down through depression for so long, that in the end, even after spending a year or so planning my move, the decision to jump was impulsive, and driven by the need to get far away as quickly as possible. Not knowing where I was going to end up, just knowing that it would be somewhere else – and hoping it would work out. I was running, pretty hard and pretty obliviously to what it was I actually needed.
Throughout the travels of the summer, my friends really stepped up to support me. They let me crash on their couches, share their meals. They showered me with hugs and laughter. A couple would send me daily texts to remind me they were a phone call away and thinking of me, and I surprised myself when I needed to call them for that support, when the traveling had gotten to be too much to handle. Friends in Chicago jumped in collectively to help me pack up the apartment, before I even had to ask, and it nearly brought me to tears. They were there through the heartbreak, through the anxiety, and sharing in the victories along the way.
And even then, it wasn’t until I spent the week at Burning Man that I figured it out, that I stopped running from one place and instead, consciously picked a direction, controlled my flurry of emotions, and confidently began walking towards a goal. I’m still processing the experiences that lead to this revelation. All I can say for certain is that I feel the difference.