Empty Pages & Blank Canvases

Different. Everything is different. I wrote about it recently, and if you missed it... it's here.

Like previous posts, this is really for me. If you read it and somehow relate to it, then that's just a bonus.  But there's a disclaimer. If you do read on, you must know two things. 1.) I am not looking for coddling/sympathy/a tissue and 2.) growth comes with growing pains, and I'm ok with this. No matter how much 'this moment' may feel sucky .

Also, you should know... this will be long, and boring, and random, and scattered... Consider yourself warned. I offer no apologies.

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For my own sake, I will repeat this. I'm in a new place. I have made a lot of changes. My routine, my paths traveled, my usual lunch time unhealthy rituals, my space, my things... different.

I'm having trouble with a number of things. Years ago, I was terrified to communicate feelings, needs, fears.. I worked through it. Suddenly, I'm unable once again. It's a new place. I feel different. I have theories. Including that I'm having difficulty separating 'visiting' from 'now living with' my fabulous new roommate.

Plans, and options, and decisions, and unsure of what's for me and what isn't is just a lot of crazy in my head right now. I'm ploughing through a lot just to not miss out, and I don't know if that's the right choice anymore than I know if it's where I belong in that moment. But I do know that I've met, re-met, reconnected, visited with so many amazing people in a short period of time. And I feel blessed, and connected, and inspired despite the difficulty to sort out my head presently.

I've never been one to enjoy having choices all the time. This is confusing even for me, but freedom to choose is a beautiful thing... so is the freedom not to when you're me. Ordering brunch is overwhelming. Choosing clothing is terrifying. I nearly stayed home today and missed out on meeting wonderful new people because of feelings I couldn't (and still can't) explain. It was more than a dramatic 'but I have nothing to wear' moment. I knew wonderful, amazing, hot, leatherdykes would be present. I wasn't concerned with meeting them, with them not liking me, and least of all them judging me by my clothing. I was being introduced to someone I hadn't really taken the time to get to know fully. Me. And it was (read: IS) frightening.

I felt that I needed to write it all out. Try and process what I was feeling and maybe understand why. Again, I planned to hang back while friends went out to yet another fun, shiny, new-to-me thing. I fought tears while writing what is above. I chose to stay home - not to mope or feel sorry for myself, but to think. And even after declining, I realized I had had enough of 'alone and thinking time' and that other humans would be a good thing. This was actually kind of big for me. It shouldn't be so different suddenly, but it is. I wasn't sure how to say the words' I'm not going' when I first made up my mind for the first outing (that I was later talked into after a good cry in a crotch clad in leather) and I equally struggled to say 'ok, I want to go now' when I decided last minute to tag along tonight.

Cripes. If it sounds complicated and dramatic, you should try living it. Trust me, I'm not enjoying this. But neither am I allowing it to define me. Instead, I'm striving to deal with it in a way that is healthy and helpful and one that forces growth and understanding. Yuck to all that feel good shit when really, you just want (another) good cry!

Truthfully, I'm of sound enough mind to realize that life is full of opportunities. Regardless of my decisions to go or stay today, there would be opportunity to reflect. In the end, however, I'm grateful I connected with yummy, awesome people. I am inspired to find outlets to deal with the 'different' thanks to conversation with great folks tonight.

Interestingly enough, when I now think back to the hours since I first started to write this out, and my original thoughts along with the title I chose for where my thoughts were headed... the 'one of many answers' I arrived at tonight just seemed to fit all that much more. I contemplated more about 'loss' and how the massive amount of 'new' that I am feeling/experiencing feels much like I'm suddenly without identity.

I feel empty and blank. No, I'm not depressed, although it's not a shiny, happy feeling. And yes, it's hard to feel that way. I just feel like so much is 'new' and 'starting fresh' that even the very things I once overcame (like the inability to communicate effectively, the inability to make my own decisions) ... I'm suddenly relearning. I feel like I have an amazing opportunity to paint the picture of me that I most wish to see. But earlier at brunch today in a brief conversation about tattoos, I was reminded of why I don't yet have ink. I can't decide. It's a huge decision.

I don't want to change my clothes four times before going out. I don't want to feel or appear unsure of who I am. But I can't define what isn't created. And now is the time I am re-creating me. To be safe to be my authentic self. Words I was given today. Words that were as much soothing as they were confusing.

I'm complicating this. I always do. That remains constant no matter where I'm located. *grin* But I have to process it in ways that only I know how. And so, I will write it out. I will 'art' it out. Create it out. Cry it out. If I'm lucky I will have it beaten out. Fucked out. Loved out. But ultimately, only I can get it out. It's doubtful I can talk it out. I might like to try, and I might even be kind with myself when I fail to make the words work.

In the end, I know I'm ok. I know this is not the end of the world. I know I am not depressed. (I am supremely happy for that). I know I am happy to be exactly where I am. Both physically and emotionally. Because I know that I will have many encounters that will challenge me and cause me to create the me that I am destined to be.

My empty, blank self is exactly where it needs to be. I am happy. Change hurts.

Life, Death, & PMS

A lot has happened over a period of a few months. I've been counting down days, much to the annoyance of my friends no doubt, until I moved across two provinces. Small town girl, moving to Canada's biggest city. People move all the time. It's a part of life, right?

I anticipated this move being an important new chapter for me, and as I write this, I've lived in the Big Smoke for less than 26 hours. I still expect that I'm going to be continually blessed and blown away by the experiences and growth I will encounter. I am also very aware of the emotions that accompany transitions, and am being gentle with myself while I work them all out.

My move happened in four legs, the longest of which was over the weekend with friends. There was a moment where a melt-down moment was scarcely dodged, and my poor host didn't know what to do when her offer to hug me was met with me shaking my head no. Heck, that surprised even me.

It was just in the moments before that I was contemplating life and death. More figuratively than literally. I thought of the pruning of a tree, and how vital it is to cut things away, effectively killing parts of it, in order for it to have the fullest, most beautiful life. Perhaps it was in my own feelings of loss, that caused me to have a roller coaster of simultaneous emotion.

Loss is not a bad thing always. It's simply 'a thing.' To make the trek by myself, within a budget I could manage, and the timeframe I gave myself, I moved to Toronto with only what fit in my car - give or take a few things tucked among friends and left with my parents. In order for that to happen, I had to significantly prune away a lot of stuff.

While it is just 'stuff' and more 'stuff' is made and available to purchase every day, there's a process involved in choosing what's important, what can be done away with, and what makes sense to buy again. Maybe it's an easy process for some people, but it took a lot of thought and planning for me. I found it easy enough at the time, but now realize that it was a more taxing chore than I first thought.

I sold furniture, gave years of collected kitchen stuff and other things away. Put stuff on the curb hoping people would take it away for me. Donated a truckload to a women's shelter. Shared what food I had left with whoever would take it so I didn't have to waste it. Despite efforts to waste less, I created a lot of garbage. It was rather sad to look at. There came a point where even some perfectly-good stuff just couldn't be rescued. There was no time to find homes for any more!

My cats are living with my parents, where they're doing great and loving being loved. While I am certain that I am not homesick at all, there's a sense of loss that comes with no longer being able to jump in my car and quickly get to the home of my childhood. Very little is familiar to me when I consider my current surroundings. The way I drove on highways and through 'city' streets back home, is not at all like the way I need to drive to survive here. The climate is different, my commute is different, my office is different. Local people in my life are different.

Goals, needs, wants, actions, right down to the air I'm breathing. So much is new or changed. In a weak (and since regretted) moment, I let the Facebook world know I was praying for PMS. I wanted an excuse for the feelings I was overwhelmed with. A name to stick to the emotion that was annoying the hell out of me. Really, I just gotta call it what it is. Change.

In these few hours I've lived in my new city, I've had drastic extremes of emotions. I wouldn't give those emotions or moments of self-realization up for anything. I'll be the strongest and healthiest 'tree' in the city within the park.

Save The Usual Excuses And Apology

You know... where a blogger intros a new entry with: "It has been so long since my last blog" or "Sorry for going dark for a while, but..."

Blah. 

Just get over it. Or don't. 

*dusts off a few cobwebs & lights a lavender candle*