A Peculiar Kind of Purgatory

I’ve been in my new apartment for about 23 days now. I’m getting used to being alone, sort of. I still fill my time with too many screens: work, TV, phone, and iPad. Although the iPad kind of doesn’t count because I use it to be creative, like writing these silly missives.

Currently, these silly missives are the only creativity I’m pursuing, and I’ve only written two of these things since I moved. I sure wish I could take a class in ProCreate or Adobe Photoshop, and I miss being creative in my sewing and drawing. But being creative means being in my own head, and that feels like seriously dangerous territory to spend a whole lot of time in right now. Something might hunt me in there and murder my tenuous emotional stability. Still, these little musings are a start, a way to spend an hour or so in my head without feeling totally alone and naked. Why would I not be totally alone while writing, you ask? It’s simple: I just imagine that someone out there is reading these things.

I’ve also spent a lot of time recently running, which is another “safe” way to spend some time in my own head. It’s safe because I’m actively doing something positive for myself at the same time I’m examining thoughts. In fact, running is one of the best catalysts for deep thought and introspection that I have. The only other time I really do that is in the shower, believe it or not. I have some of my best ideas in the shower.

Anyway, back to running. In an earlier post I mentioned that one of the things that would “stave off the crazies” would be to have an exercise plan in place when I moved. Well, in typical stupid overachiever fashion I went and signed up for my first marathon in September. So my “exercise plan” is to learn how to run 26 miles at one time without dying, and I have 12 weeks in which to do this. This means that my weekends are spent mostly doing a long run (10+ miles) and then recovering from said run. This also means I have a convenient, if not entirely honest, excuse not to do any more unpacking in my apartment.

I’ve made the decision to leave New Mexico. I’ve always wanted to head back to the west coast, which is where I was born and spent my early years, but I want to go somewhere new over there, so I’m looking at the Pacific Northwest. I think that in the midst of all of this upheaval, the end of my 24 -year relationship, the sale of my home, the certain knowledge that my parents don’t want me near, it’s also a good time to reinvent myself. I want to start over somewhere completely new. No steps backward, all steps forward. New people, new job, new city, possibly even eventually a new career.

So I’m in this state of limbo right now, where I’m half unpacked and unwilling to unpack further. Half in and half out of my relationship, my living situation, my job, my state. My moving boxes are where my dining room should be, stacked haphazardly against a wall. My scrying skills are nil, and I don’t know a good psychic, so I can’t tell what the future has in store for me. Do I unpack all of my belongings only to find out I have to pack them again to move west? All to do a few drawings or sew a few stitches? Much like an carrying an umbrella almost guarantees that it won’t rain, maybe unpacking completely will guarantee I immediately get hired somewhere in the PNW.

It would be good to put down the screens and stuff my hands into a box of fabric for a change. Or pick up a pencil.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s