Homesick

I’m homesick for a place and a version of me that doesn’t exist anymore.

October 2019 with my pups (they’re with my ex now) | Photography by Rachel Renee

This freedom, safety, comfort feels like 17 with the world at my fingertips, the beautiful city around me before it changed into something I didn’t recognize. At the edge of the world, I long for that place. Not to stay, just to hold in my heart again knowing it is safe.

I haven’t seen my mom, my best friend, my brothers, my youngest sister, or my grandpa in 233 days. 7 months and some change.

On September 22, 2019, I left behind the life I knew for an isolated winter in an RV. I planned to spend the season alone in a tiny town on the Oregon coast, just me and my healing and my writing (Raped, Not Ruined was finished in January 2020 and published in March).

Back in July of 2019, I had a thriving business. By November, the isolation and poor internet connection brought my business income down to barely paying the bills- and my drive to work harder was nowhere to be seen. Since then, I’ve been making ends meet when it comes to money- but only just, and not with the work that I love the most. My first two books made me less than pennies on the hour spent creating them. I have more rejection letters than I can count, and it’s become undeniable that this website is sucking money away without bringing in a profit. I’ve been seriously considering giving up this 6 year passion project, finally calling it quits.

Meanwhile, my business marketing and coaching business is starting to regain traction. The work doesn’t light me up, but it pays the bills and I love the creators I get to serve. It feels like a bittersweet compromise where I only really have the energy for one of these projects, and by clinging to both, I’m stopping either from going anywhere. But… the business isn’t the choice I want to make, and I have bills to pay. So. What’s a creative monster like me to do?

I’ve been playing more and more with leaning into joy and finding the balance between grace and discipline within myself. I’ve recreated my morning routine, committed to movement and embracing discomfort, and I’ve even learned to get things done when I say I will- every time- even if I don’t feel like doing it. I’ve found a balance between knowing when to allow myself to rest and take a step back vs when it’s time to push a little harder and recognize that I am anything but fragile.

Spending the winter in isolation didn't go at all how I anticipated. I didn’t expect to break my husband’s heart, and I most certainly didn’t plan on falling in love with a stranger in an RV park at the edge of the world in this little retirement community. I didn’t expect to let go of my love for animals and personal responsibility, to instead start eating meat again and drinking regularly. I lost myself for a while, embracing the joy and the relaxed sort of fun that came with new love and freedom from a relationship that started back when I was 14 years old- that survived rape and betrayal for years, though it really should have ended sooner.

What’s really getting to me is that I haven’t recognized the face in the mirror in five months.

Like, since I fell out of love with one man, in love with myself, and then embracing the joy of a whole new life. I’ve been trying on new perspectives, new colors, new hobbies and habits… One version of me after another, taste-testing the joy and morals and capacity for love in each new state of being.

Sometimes the joy feels surreal, like it’s not mine. Not possible. Not for me.

Like I need to take step back, maybe I should be more careful.

But that’s not really true… It’s safe for me to embrace joy and let myself just live for a moment, right?

Two weeks later:

And yet, I hear my soul telling me that joy shouldn’t have to be numbed- that drinking shouldn’t be a requirement for relaxation and fun. And… it’s not. But in the limited company I’m keeping through this pandemic and social distancing, it feels like the only way to keep the peace and playfulness alive.

I’ve been terrified at the sometimes absent and too-often apathetic face I see in the mirror. This joy is real, for a moment, but the second a vice comes into play, I’ve betrayed the purity of the moment and a piece of my heart breaks without my permission.

It’s been two weeks since this something-is-wrong/this-isn’t-me feeling started- and I’ve since stopped eating meat and eggs and stopped drinking…

I’m leaning back into the compassionate lifestyle and little details that have always meant so much to me, and I burst into tears of joy seeing myself back in the mirror, feeling myself back in my own heart. It’s good to be me again. Once I quit drinking the fear away, the shift was quick- the fog lifted and I realized what’s next for me and got so excited to embrace it.

But… not one person seems to share this excitement with me, and I’m not sure what to do with that wave of doubt. The same doubt I wanted to drown in the bottom of a bottle of wine, laughing with a loved one and listing all the reasons life is just fine right here, right now.

Temptation wasn’t something I ever knew so intimately before.
It scares me, but I'm done playing with that fire now.

I need myself back. Nothing is worth this disconnect with who I am.

I tell myself it’ll be okay- that this pandemic is hard on all of us and it’s natural that I’m feeling alone and itching for something new right now… but the secret is that I’m not really itching for some new place- I’m itching to be myself. All myself. To have nothing to hide from anyone- to be surrounded by only the people who can handle my honesty and thoughtfulness, those who can embrace my silence in a comfortable sort of companionable stillness. I long for peace that I can share… I’ve found it myself and I crave that sometimes, but there must be some way it’s possible for two different people to feel at peace in a partnership together in the long run- right? That kind of love exists… right?

I’m on this new adventure and I’m doing my best to be true to myself and lean into the discomfort where in the past I might have run away or shut down. It’s this game of noticing whether the discomfort is my intuition saying it’s time, yes. or my fear telling me something must be wrong because happiness is too good to be true.

Right now, I think it’s both and wow, that makes for a messy state of mind.

Time to breathe deeply, let love in, and trust myself.

I tried on all these different versions of me for months on end, poured over hundreds of journal pages going back nearly ten years, and in the end I found I was my whole self all along.

It’s just that they didn’t know how to truly see me.
When others doubted me, I believed them more than I believed myself.

I ask myself what they could possibly be seeing- how could they not see me? Anna Nalick’s words ring in my ears: I feel like I’m naked in front of the crowd ‘cause these words are my diary screaming out loud (and I know that you’ll use them however you want to).

I came to the conclusion that who I am was too good to be true for most people- and that crushed me a little bit. I don’t see myself in that way, not at all. Not better than anyone, not “pure” like I’m told so often. I just let my heart be visible. People aren’t used to real vulnerability… and sometimes that makes me want to hide mine away. But I’m here to live life, to shine brightly, to love without walls.

I’ve learned the importance of boundaries,
and I’ve learned to trust myself when something feels off.

Now, I’m all me. I’m still learning to dance more freely, but I discovered this weekend that my voice is perfectly fine- when it wants to be. It’s just honoring the anatomy of peace- and most people don’t know what that means.

That’s okay.

I’m okay.