Surrounded by half-filled cardboard boxes, a layer of dust settling on everything, I’ve decided I need a break.
Today has been more productive than the entire months of August and September combined, and I feel cautiously optimistic about it. I washed a month’s worth of smelly dishes, did a month’s worth of smelly laundry, and began packing twelve days before my moving date.
That’s right, in less than two weeks I won’t be calling this place home anymore.
If you’ve been following along, I haven’t been posting much lately. It’s not that nothing was happening so I had nothing to say, it’s more like EVERYTHING was happening and I was so caught up in my own head that whenever I tried to find the words, there was nothing but a blank space in my brain. That’s usually how it happens with me.
I don’t know what I’m doing with this blog anymore.
When I started writing here, I was about to move back to the city after a year-long breather up north. I had reconnected with my boyfriend (yes, even after he beat the holy fuck out of me it took me another couple years to realize I needed to get out). I had gotten my transfer. I had found my very own apartment. And it was in the same place I’m sitting now that I began a very long process of healing.
You can’t fully heal if one of the elements holding you back is still part of your life.
It’s been almost three months since I cut ties with him. Our relationship was dead long before I said the words out loud, but it still feels strange that he’s not a part of my life anymore. It’s strange to think about all the time I spent with him, all the wonderful and terrible things he said to me. They still rattle inside my head. As I began packing this morning, it occurred to me why I put it off so long.
I kept finding his stuff.
Five years is a long time to spend with someone. Over time they find ways to permeate your life, and when you remove them, sometimes you miss some of the things they left behind. Books. Childhood toys. Sketches. Pieces of them to remind you of how messy everything was when it ended. Looking at the things I found today, I can’t help but wonder what the hell I was thinking, staying with someone so obviously wrong for me. I’m still the person I was before I met him, but there are a few dents and battle scars. A few chinks in my emotional armor. A few different perspectives.
I’m looking forward to getting out of here and starting over. This entire area of Toronto is full of memories for me, both good and bad. I don’t feel like I can fully heal and clear my head until I’m able to walk down the street without seeing something that reminds me of the past. I’m not interested in reliving it. I’m interested in being somewhere else, where I can make new memories with people who actually care about me. People who know me, and know everything I’ve been through over the past few years, and have still chosen to be there for me.
I only hope I can repay them.
So I haven’t been here much, but that doesn’t mean I’m gone. I’m closing the messiest chapter of my life in the hopes that I can open one that’s a little kinder to me. A little cleaner. Filled with a lot more laughter. I have a feeling I’m on the right track, ready for whatever comes next.
I’m not just a coffee wench. I can be so much more than that. I hope you’ll stick with me while I figure it all out.