Where I'm Going

It has been far too long since I have written anything here. I've had dozens of posts swirling around in my head, and I hope I will get them down here soon. But I've also been processing a lot of thoughts, a lot of feelings, and a lot of things in life. Just more steps in my journey forward. I started this blog a year ago, and while I'm light years ahead of where I was then, I'm still not in nearly a healthy enough state of mind to handle going back and reading what I wrote then. It was too raw. It brings back too much, even just thinking about it. Maybe someday, maybe never.

Tonight, I started packing for my move down south. On December 3rd, I'm moving from the north side of Denver, to Lone Tree, south of the city. It's actually a very wealthy part of town. To put it in Cincinnati terms, I'm basically moving to Indian Hills. By Lone Tree standards, I'm exceedingly poor, but no matter. I have enough to cover my needs, and sometimes, a little extra. It's far more than I have had for the vast majority of my life. 

When I began my moving process, I was moving because right now, I spend 20 or so hours in the car each week. I spend a lot in gas and tolls. I don't live near work, and I don't live near Andy. Fortunately for me, Level 3 has an office in Lone Tree, fewer than 10 minutes from Andy's house. I was fortunate enough to find an apartment in the building right next door to Level 3. I don't even walk across a parking lot to get there. There's a little grassy embankment, and I'm there. I'm guessing it'll take me less time to get from my front door to my new desk than it currently takes me to get from the parking garage to my desk every day. Not only that, but instead of using a tank or more of gas per week, I can use about one per month. And pretty much never pay tolls. The apartment building I chose is brand new and very modern in decor. It's basically my dream apartment. Yes, I'm spending in rent literally all the money I'm saving by not driving so much, but it's totally worth it. Plus, the year round heated pool is going to be amazing for my joints this winter. I'll be close to Andy, close to Violet (who is SO BIG!), close to a lot of things. I'll save hours in driving time each week, and especially when living with chronic pain and illness, on top of Autism, time is energy. 

All of that alone, seemed like the reasons I was moving. But a few weeks ago, I realized something that struck me again tonight, while packing some things up in my kitchen: I moved to my current apartment to survive. I'm moving to my new one to be happy. 

When I moved here, I was barely holding on to life and sanity by a thread. I had already spent a week in the hospital, and had only narrowly avoided going back a couple months after. Cape had become entirely toxic to me, and staying there was simply not an option. And so I packed up my five years of life in Cape, selling as much as I could to get rid of all my grad school cheap stuff, to make my move easy, and force me into saving money to buy good adult furniture in Denver. 

Packing was brutally painful. Nothing inside of me wanted anything to do with any part of the situation I was in. I didn't want to be moving. I didn't want to be leaving Cape and SEMO. I didn't want to leave him and our relationship behind. I didn't want to leave and start all over in a completely new city, and state. But moving to Denver was my only option if I was going to survive. And as I remember writing about a year ago here, I didn't seem to have an option but to survive. I was stuck living. I remember quoting Jurassic Park, saying, "Life finds a way." And for me, it did. It was the most painful thing I had ever experienced in my life. But life wasn't going anywhere, so I had to leave. And the only place that didn't make me want to cry to think about moving there was Denver. So I came. 

Moving to Denver was the best thing I had ever done. I began to make a life for myself here. My place wasn't bad, and I started to decorate it to my liking. But I still spent so many nights here in this apartment, sobbing for him. Grieving the life I thought I was going to have. The life that was promised me over and over. Dreaming that he was knocking on my door, only to wake up to reality. I was doing much better, and I was forcing myself to move forward, but it was still brutal. It was ugly. It was excruciating. 

Then came Andy. And he helped make it better. No, he didn't take the pain away. He couldn't. But he did help parts of it heal. I'm still overwhelmed by grief at times, and pain. Anger still takes my breath away at times, and I am still beyond confused, and even after 16 months, I'm still in a degree of shock. No, I don't wish him back. Not at all. I know he was too much of a coward to ever be able to make life with me work. And I don't even really know if he loved me. I don't think I'll ever stop questioning that. But even with Andy in the picture, my apartment was still a little shrouded by the reason for moving. I loved my apartment in Cape, this one is just okay. The one in Lone Tree is better. 

There are so many things that make my new place infinitely better than the one I'm in. This apartment played a role. An absolutely vital role. But it's time to move on. I moved here to survive, and survive I did. Now it's time to thrive. And that's exactly why I'm moving. I can't really fully do that while I'm here. But soon, I'll be in my new place, in my new part of town, without driving enough to be a part-time job. And instead of pain while I pack, I feel excitement. Like this time last year, I can't wait to move. But unlike last year, it's not because I can't bear to be where I am. It's because I can't wait to be where I'm going. And that, dear readers, makes all the difference in the world.