Home Sweet Home

Last November I blogged about sitting on a new porch drinking coffee from an old cup. I find myself thinking about that post a lot lately. Or rather, thinking of everything I didn’t put it in. Instead of talking about my emotions, I spoke of neighbors. Rather than poking the pain that came before the move, I talked about unpacking boxes. I didn’t talk about the fear of starting over, I watched the world wake up. There were no metaphors, just avoidance. I thought about doing a sister post, as I am currently sitting on a new porch—again. But my frame mind is different, the boxes are already unpacked and this neighborhood isn’t about avoidance, it’s about growth and acceptance. Last time I was running away. This time I wasn’t running. I was actively searching out happiness, and hoping to avoid that moment when you wake up at 60 and start to think of the could haves and should haves.

I’ve been visiting friends in PA for long enough and decided it was time to just do it—just move. I told my parents and asked them to tell me why I shouldn’t… they offered to help pack. I asked my friends and they replied with “Why not?” and one “Take me with you.” So I took the plunge. I moved across country. I did it. I packed my life into a Uhaul with a mastadon/NYC museum side image and trekked across five states in the dead of night like some fugitive. It was exciting and felt adventurous. It was nerve wracking and scary. We stopped in Plainfield [Ed Gein’s territory] and I watched my last Wisconsin sunset… and then left the state behind. Left family, left friends, and left a job I loved.

And while trying to remember which cupboard in the hew house held the strainer, it hit me. I did this. Followed by, What the hell was I thinking?! I felt tears threaten that I didn’t understand. My stomach flipped a few times. And then a little voice in the back of my head whispered, “Breathe.”

Yes it was scary, yes it was a big adjustment, but as much as fear tries to wiggle in on occasion, that little voice reminds me that I’m happy. No, let me clarify that. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Ever. I got a great job, a nice house to rent, a boy that gets me and treats me the way I want and should be treated, and have several of my favorite people within spitting range. Yes, it’s scary, but nothing worth having isn’t worth a little fear and risk. I knew I did the right thing while sitting at the picnic table with my friends, because I could be there, they could be there, it was a possibility now. I knew I did the right thing when I had to dig and find my anger to write a section that required it, because it was no longer hovering there on the surface. I knew I did the right thing when I had to drive all the way back to Wisconsin to drop the kids at their dad’s for the summer and then said, “All right, let’s go home.” Home.

I’m home now. And the stress of the past few years is done. I survived the medical and mental bullshit. It’s time to stop hiding and start living life. It’s time to get back on the band wagon, reinvent myself, reintroduce myself to the internet and kick the genre’s ass. I’m home, and I’m back. Now then… where were we? Oh yeah, I have a novel and several shorts and two novellas to finish, polish, submit. Pass the coffee, there’s work to be done!

0 Responses to Home Sweet Home

  • I could really use coffee right now, with lots of whipped cream. Sitting on your front steps & not really talking…just enjoying the morning before it gets too hot. That would be so nice. And in a couple of weeks, I get to do it!!! xox

  • Raven Z. says:

    Congratulations Kelli.

    I am very happy for you. And you deserve every second of this happiness, remember that.

    Breathe deep,
    Raven

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