You again...
I know, I know. It's around that time when I pop in with a new blog to trauma dump on you, just to go back into seclusion again. Our relationship is pretty unhealthy these days...but it still feels so good. It's not you, it's me. We can make this work. You complete me. Babe, I like everyones pictures on instagram. Or whatever.
Hi. it feels good to be back.
Tonight, I'm starting us off with a quote:
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
I'm writing to you because I have an announcement to make. An announcement that is deserving of more than an instagram story.
The only words I can force out right now would be this: Twenty Days.
Thats the countdown until yet another massive change in my life will occur. Except this time, I am embraced with a very, very familiar feeling.
When you’re excited for something, it's a race against time to get to the big day. It seems like time drags on and onnn, and it doesn't take long before I’m writing up a super "complex" math equation in my head to make time go by faster.
"Okay, the event is seven days away but today is halfway over, so that makes it six. I’m off on Tuesday - that’s a free day. Five. It’s only five real days away. Carry the one...divide by...”
The equivalency to an unwanted approaching life event would be a brick. A brick so heavy that you can't carry it in your arms. Therefore, you swallow it. As it sits gravely at the bottom of your stomach and each day begins to fly by, the passing of time becomes something to mourn. The brick gets heavier. Most people would probably be scurrying around like house mice looking for that little slice of closure cheese, but not I. I usually avoid any anxious situation life throws at me until the day of. Or until I die....It depends! It's not real until I let it be. Living in my own delusion feels safe!
....Anyway, yeah. With that being said:
I actually have no idea what you're talking about..?? What brick? What cheese?
You can call it gaslighting myself but I consider it protecting my peace at all costs. :)
That was I mean, until now.
NOW, I'm officially making it real.
20 days. 480 hours & 28,800 minutes.
That is how much time I have until I leave the place I’ve called home for almost three years.
Newport.
Yeooouuutchh. But Hey-
Saying I have 1,728,000 seconds until I kiss the life I've known goodbye sounds like a lot more time than 20 days. Who knew that numbers could be comforting? When I think back to packing my room up at my parents house, there was never a plan. I went with it. It was beautiful to have so many possibilities. Life is truly a game of shoots and ladders. I rolled the dice and was offered a chance to explore the unknown: myself. Sometimes, and only on special days, it feels like September 15th of 2020 wasn't that long ago. I can hear it in a song, it smells like Ben & Jerry's. I feel it in a fall breeze that wraps itself around my body and blows me straight to the past. Then just as quickly as this feeling embraces my soul and enters my world, it leaves. The nostalgia gets transmitted back into oblivion by a cruel reminder of the present. The disassociating feeling leaves as fast as it came. In times, this feeling leaves in more abrupt ways, sent away by a vibration in my pocket. A Snapchat notification from my memories. Quickly, I'm reminded exactly how long ago September of 2020 actually was. The longer I stare at the old photo of myself on the screen, the less I recognize who that is. Bare arms from the lack of tattoos, short bleach blonde hair, heavier makeup. Despite all the ways I can critique my former self, I am envious of the spark she has. The genuine smile that peels from ear to ear. She is clueless.
Suddenly the past becomes unobtainable again. The doors remain shut.
I can feel the brick.
Slyvia Plath's quote was something I stumbled upon at the right time and has lived in the notes section of my phone since. The quote resonates with me because it is an accurate depiction of the only way my brain has been functioning over the past 6 months. Decisions...Decisions... Right or left? Up or down? The older I get, the more I see life as a never ending journey of "well, now what?". As soon as you think you have it figured out, life has a way of flipping the script. Sometimes the path we are on takes us to unexpected places (like Newport, RI!), and we find ourselves standing at a crossroads, faced with a choice. Do we stay with what we've known? Or do we venture into the unknown?
To stay, or to go.
For me, that choice has come in the form of a move. After a lot of soul searching and crying in my car, I've decided to take that same massive jump I took years ago, once again. It is a decision equally as heartbreaking as it is exciting. Terrifying, yet exhilarating. Full of anticipation and uncertainty. The hardest part is processing that it’s over. Somehow I’m able to lie to my brain and think that as long as I’m still in the state, this town, I’ll somehow be able to go back in time, relive a life I once had and finish it out how I wanted. To me, leaving the state lines means even the smallest, tiniest sliver of an opportunity to give life here another go around, is gone. The odds are against the little dream I held close.
"I know it's over, still I cling." - The Smiths
When I was faced with the news that the gang was splitting up, it felt like all of the roomies had found their "fig", except me. Everyone figured out so quickly where they were going and came up with a plan for themselves. I guess, deep down, I knew I wouldn't be here for forever... but a part of me really wanted to. I had dreams, fantasies, doors I wanted to open. Goals I wanted to accomplish. I processed the news like it was a breakup and went through the stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.
Denial for me was driving past my first apartment regularly. Trying to relive any part of it that I could scrape up. Going to all of my old "go-to" spots made it easier to relive the past. It was the closest I could get to whatever memory I was longing for at the time. Talking about my summer plans in Newport with strangers who will never know that I was lying.
Anger came out as "How could they do this to me?" & my personal favorite: "Does nobody care about my life?". I struggled with this emotion the most because being enemies with the closest people that I have in my life right now, was not on my 2023 bingo card. I felt guilty for being angry but the anger consumed me.
Bargaining was in the form of texting everyone I know and asking about their living situations. I was fantasizing about suddenly meeting the love of my life and him magically taking away this gut wrenching decision for me. Even though during all of this, I knew I wouldn't stay.
Depression creeped up on me. For a moment I thought I skipped right over it and moved on to acceptance. Sadly, that was a "fool's spring". I mourned for my current life like it was dead. Family dinners with the roommates, sunsets at ocean drive, waking up to the sound of seagull's. It all became something to mourn. Your eyes fill with tears over stupid things you didn't know you could cry over. The smell of my roommates cologne, the colors of a morning sunrise before work, the right corner of the living room carpet that sticks up. The scuffs on the walls from party decorations, the squeaky floors. I'll say, you really find out what you love the most during this stage.
Acceptance is entirely new to me. I think I literally stopped being depressed about a month ago. Regardless, it feels good to finally have a clear mind about the entire situation. I woke up one day and war was over. It all made sense why I was here and why I have to go but I still want to split myself in half. A piece of me to stay in Newport and a piece for me to take with me. My time has been exhausted. I've been questioning my role in the Newport chapter of my life for awhile now and I finally figured out what it was. I accomplished what I came to do and now it's time to move on. The universe would never lead me astray.
In the beginning everything perfectly fit together like puzzle pieces. Now, I feel as if I am a crab that has outgrown it's shell. Desperately looking for a new fit. The signs that my shell wasn’t fitting anymore were all there but I chose to ignore them. Until naturally, the universe began to scream at me. Once I stopped being mad at the world for the circumstances I was in, the signs were all around me. One of my very best friends here moved to Spain, another one to England. Within a week of each other. Double Whammy. My favorite breakfast spot which held so many memories, got demolished. Shortly after that, my second favorite breakfast joint shut down as well. Our old apartment is now an airbnb and the art gallery down the street from there is a coffee shop. The first connections I made with people are now entirely social media based with even a few mutual unfollows. The bars weren't fun anymore. The crowds of people that fill Newport in the summer and gifted me with energy, became an annoyance. The magic of Newport slipped through my fingers and before I knew it, the beach was just a beach. The sunsets weren't worth chasing. The cold became unbearable. Life went grey. I began to have nightmares almost every single night. My night terrors weren't about zombies, or something Netflix could whip up in the writers room. I dreamed about death. My loved ones in pain. My most treasured relationships crumbling. Failing in my career. Bittersweet dreams of unrealistic relationships coming too fruition if I stayed. Which in my eyes, is a nightmare. These vivid dreams would wake me up at all hours riddled with anxiety. For that, I'm known in my house as the "night gremlin". Thats due to the lack of sleep and too many jump scares to my roommates because I'm sitting in the dark when they just want to have a late night pee.
As I finally moved through the stages of grief and my mindset shifted, my dreams began to change. They showed me Gloucester. The music was telling me to leave. I felt it in my bones.
Leaving Virginia was tough but I left with the comfort of knowing that I could always come back. That life was still waiting for me with the door wide open, welcome mat and all. My childhood friends would still be down the street, mom waiting for me with open arms. For holidays and birthdays, I had the luxury of being able to see my home-town loved ones. Whether it was a for a week or weekend, it was never enough time. Thats what I'm currently struggling with. Leaving a place that won't wait for me. What about the cashier at Ashmart that knows my order to a T!? Friends I've made from the 100 jobs I've worked. My best friend Svenja, her two dogs and her mom. (Shout out, Grit!) My what if's, what could of been's. The hopeless crushes, the people I've always wanted to, but have yet to connect with. Friendships so good that they were never, ever a stranger. Every single connection that I have made, period. Will they all forget about me? I was moved from Gloucester but Gloucester was never moved from me. This is different. I fear that the life I've made for myself in Newport over the past two years will be gone as soon as I cross the Bridge out of the island. To me, the life I've built here will be something I could never forget.
Moving out of state from a place you love is a tough decision to make. If not one of the hardest choices you could make. For me, it wasn't an overnight decision. My choice to leave came from bottles of wine, self help podcasts, being alone & talking with the right people. Making yourself be okay with change even when it's hard is the first step.
Say it with me now: "Change is a good thing!"
You will feel like you're leaving behind everything you know and all that you love. Thats fucking scary. But sometimes, it's necessary to take that leap. Staying in one place for too long when you know your time is expired can prevent you from growing and pushing your way through that new door to open. It's natural to feel nostalgic and keep a tight grip on the past. Today I'm twenty four and in four months I'll be twenty five, looking back to this exact moment. Sitting on my couch in Newport Rhode Island, slamming away at the keys on my MacBook. Missing it. The nostalgia never ends. As much as you think of the past as the realm of "what should' of been's", it's exciting to remember that the future is full with what "could be's". Ultimately, I learned to trust my gut. To do what is best for me, even if it means ending a chapter of life that I love. So. Much.
This is number 28239 of attempting to write this week. I would say it's writers block but in the writing world, some would say that's a myth. Writers Block - another word for "laziness" or "procrastination". This time around, I know my lack of writing is due to the volume of things I want to talk about. (also procrastination). The past two years of my life are simply not a blog post. I want to scream my stories from a rooftop. I want to write a book chapter by chapter, word by word and feed you the stories of my experiences. Film a movie just so you could see what I've seen and feel like you've lived it too. I'm an all-in-or-nothing person, I need you to know what I ate for breakfast, down to the color of my socks. I guess, I’m frustrated that I have to give the spark notes version to my life changing years. Not to mention, fit it all into one post instead of two. Because that's what you guys asked for.
Thanks.
When I moved to Newport I was prepared for life to change. What was unexpected was how much life would change me. My current self perception is what I've always dreamed of. I love being tall, I love my freckles, moles and scars. I love everything I came to Newport despising about myself. One of my biggest dreams - to love myself, entirely came true. My "flaws" or insecurities are my X-Factor. Once I dropped the gig of hating myself and started embracing me, my life changed. The slight shift in my confidence was enough to open new doors for me. I was told my entire life by people that surrounded me that different was ugly. To be different is what I strive for every day. I want to be weird and get shitty tattoos I'll regret in ten years. I want people to study my face and all the ways it's different from others. I want people to remember me. Once you get out of that small town you grew up in, you'll notice that all the things you're insecure about, people admire in you. Confidence is a magic trick.
On my list of things to do in RI, falling in love was not one of them. I fought it for the longest time. I pushed and ran away from it as much as I could. But like how every love story begins, eventually I fell. And I fell, and fell. Deeply, sickly and intoxicatingly in love. What started as the relationship I've always dreamed of, ended in catastrophe. Over & over & over again. Worse every single time. I loved him. He was my best friend, my twin. The funniest person in the room but also the meanest. The most passionate, loving and inspiring. Yet, the most selfish, hateful and deceitful. I believe that sometimes the universe gives us to people who need to experience unconditional love- and painfully in return, those same people will teach us detachment and self worth. It's torturous and isn't fair.
Having to walk away from someone you love & defend so fiercely brings an indescribable amount of pain. It consumed my entire being. The pain felt so intense, it was physical. Even now writing this my heart is racing and my stomach is filled of knots. I felt so raw and exposed because I have never given my self away entirely to a person before. No walls, only windows. Now, I was alone. I swore I would never love again. On bad days, I still wave my fist in the air banishing love. Intoxicating romance is like a drug. The highs are otherworldly but the lows are soul breaking. It's important to grieve, to be angry and be alone. Without doing that I wouldn't be able to be thankful for the parts that I loved. Thankful to know just exactly how hard my little heart can love and fight for someone. This relationship helped guide me to see exactly what I want in a partner while simultaneously showing me everything to avoid and be cautious of in others. Feelings I refuse to let anyone make me feel again. No matter how much I love them. Ever.
When I think of him now, I think of this quote:
"I hope you get everything you've ever wanted & I hope I never hear a thing about it."
Platonic love. The deepest, purest and most realistic love I've ever known. The kind of love you can only receive from a friend that peels you off your bedroom floor for the third time that week over something she told you to end months ago. And still, they pick you up again. And again and again and again. In a lot of the friendships I've experienced, I felt like the giver. The one that seemed to care just a litttttttle bit more. The relationships I've been gifted with in my time in Newport felt mutual. Living with a best friend in a cute little apartment during my 20's has been THE birthday candle wish since I was like nine. I feel indescribably privileged to have made that dream come true with my Miranda. She has shown me what a real "ride or die" friendship is. I showed all sides of myself to someone that wasn't my parents and she still loved me with all of her heart. Unconditionally. We brushed our teeth together, cried together, screamed at each other. For the first time in my life I was able to look at a friend and know for a fact they will always be around.
Miranda,
I will be in your wedding, at your future children's softball games, Venmoing you for our girls trip out west when we are eighty years old. Everything. I refuse to miss a thing.
Through Miranda, I met my Svenja. It's crazy how I went twenty two years without knowing she existed. Now I can't picture the future without her in it. My girl. The softest, sweetest person I've been graced of crossing paths with. Honestly, I should be expecting a routine FT call from her all the way in Madrid anyyyy second now. From Newport to Spain, to Virginia, I will cherish her no matter the distance. Newport gave me her. So I will always love Newport for that. One of the greatest accomplishments I've made during my time on the island was trapping her into being my friend. (See u soon, Sven. I love you, I love you, I love you.)
As I prepare to say goodbye to the familiar and welcome the unknown, I encourage you to embrace the future and welcome it with open arms. Remember that change is an unavoidable part of life, and that every ending is also a new beginning. Don't be scared to let life flow through you. It was one of the best things I've ever done.
Gloucester County, I have BIG plans for you.
See you June 4th.
-Ry
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