It feels so good to be writing again, even if I really have no idea how to say what I want to share with you. There have been dozens, hundreds more likely, of moments over the past however many months I've been off the grid where I've talked this post out to myself, trying to make it take shape. And then each day would bring with it new and unexpected challenges, making yesterday's thoughts seem no longer relevant. There is also a hesitancy in detailing how you are struggling to recreate yourself. Wondering if strangers will understand things you're not even sure of yourself. I've been wanting to tell you where I have settled, and almost seven months later it seems I finally have. Or at least I have begun.
This past April I moved from the suburbs to a tiny brick rowhouse in Baltimore City. The house is smaller in actual living space than my first, much cheaper apartment, but it's comfortable and manageable, and in it I'm beginning to heal. I had so many fears moving here that now seem so childish, like I was a kid going off to college for the first time. Or heck, like I was seventh grade me going off to sleep-away camp for the first time. Parking, grocery stores, where to walk my dog, can I even afford this, will I be safe on my own... will I be sane on my own. So far I am thrilled to report that I'm doing well on five out of six - the sanity is a luxury item, most days I thrive on functional stability.
I wish I had been brave enough, or together enough, to include you in the journey all along. This summer was full of adventures and fun and deep laughter with friends who stood by my side without having to be asked. There was the first sunny day I walked Daphne to Federal Hill park and saw the view of the Baltimore Harbor. Water and old city buildings, people playing volleyball and boating in the marina across the way.. it was beautiful, peaceful, and revitalizing... and I realized that this is where I live. I sat on a bench taking it in while my pup snoozed on the grass, feeling incredibly blessed to have landed in this place, and it was one of the many, many times that I mentally penned a love note to you all.
Now I'm in a place where I'm starting to feel pieces of me coming back to life. Sometimes it's painful, like waking a limb, and sometimes it's a piece that's been dormant for so long, I have to pause and remember. Remember who I am, who I want to be, the kind of woman I was ultimately created to be. It's funny how much numbness you have to go through to actually get to the healing, but here I am. Pins and needles.