turbulence

Moving via airplane is terrible. I've been trying to organize my accumulation of crap for months, but only when it's too late do I realize I should have shipped myself things. Maybe a lot of things. I could have even shipped my clothes, my trenchcoat, random stuff that poses some problem or another. I had the foresight to send myself a few things, but I should have shipped a lot more. Now that I'm leaving tomorrow morning and it's too late, this seems clear to me.

Hey, just do it tomorrow morning before going to the airport, right? I don't drive. Getting to UPS feels like an all day ordeal. I certainly can't do it before going to the airport. I'm not that much of a grown-up. Every little thing is so much more work for me than it's supposed to be. 

I feel like I'm doing it all wrong, but I can't do anything about it. It's taken everything I've got to do it at all. I'm too stressed, too overwhelmed, I have to leave behind all sorts of things for my landlord to deal with, because he's the adult who has a job and owns houses, and I'm an old child who can't figure out how to live in this world.

Everything I was looking forward to was in my life here, in Winooski. Everything I've been looking forward to this summer has been replaced by trying to find a place to live, trying to move, trying to look forward to other things. I'm torn between the impulse to be optimistic and wanting to hold onto the feelings of loss. Look at what I'm going through. What kind of lunatic would be ok? Don't I have a right to feel eviscerated by this?

Optimism looks better. It's more productive. What good is dwelling. Just keep moving forward and adapting. Make the most of what comes, not what could have been. Never mind the scars and trauma. If we don't think about them, they aren't there. We just inexplicably feel like hell, whatever the future holds.

I had a bookshelf full of my own books for the first time in my adult life. A whole range of interesting books that I've mostly read. Can't ship many books., let alone pack them into my overstuffed duffle bag. Too heavy. Back to having no books, no bookshelf to say anything interesting about me. I could have shipped a few favorites, but wasn't thinking clearly enough.

There are so many random things like this. Everything is replaceable, but most of it won't get replaced. That's good in a way. We shouldn't hoard and clutter our lives with so much crap, but we shouldn't have to periodically throw out everything we own, either.

fragile roots

Still watching roommate ads and the like, I noticed one of them was posted by someone I know from the gym. I've been trying to tell people about my predicament for months, but I haven't systematically made sure everyone knows. Lots of them have no idea. One of them was looking for a roommate.. but just filled the position the previous day.

Opportunities periodically arise beyond just checking the listings. Knowing people and having connections means having a leg-up, should any of them be looking for a roommate or a tenant. I've been trying to keep my feelers out, talking to anyone who might know of any such opportunities, but now I won't be able to do that anymore. Yesterday was the last day I'll be going to the gym, before I leave.

What an interesting opportunity that would be, forced upon me by circumstance. I dread having roommates, but it could help me build further connections to people here. Connections branch and and deepen the longer I'm around and engaging with a community. Maybe I'll get along great with people I meet in Philly, but it's unlikely I'll be there long.

Connections are like the roots we form, and roots are vital to sustaining us and keeping us healthy. Some people grow roots quickly and easily, but I never have. It takes me a long time, and my roots and the ability to grow them at all are easily damaged. Some plants can be planted and replanted over and over, while others will immediately die if you do that. 

Having lost my grip on everything else I was doing to pull myself together these last five years, getting to the gym was all I had left. Now that's gone, too. In theory, I will come back in a few months. In theory, I can get to the gym in Philly and form new connections. I am trying, but it all feels so uncertain and I am feeling very damaged.

time marches on

I don't think I'm coming back to Vermont. I have no faith in the system that would make it possible. I'm afraid that by leaving, I won't get it sorted out when things go wrong. I won't be here to figure anything else out. When the door closes behind me, I'll be gone.

All my life, I've moved every five to ten years. Moving from Syracuse wrecked me when I was eleven. Moving from New Jersey when I was sixteen ensured that I'd never recover. It didn't help that the place we moved to was Long Island. Each time I've moved, my frayed capacity for connection has further collapsed. I leave the past behind me, a one way road of scattered memories, of people, places, and things. Each time I've said good-bye, it has been forever.

It's amazing that even when I find somewhere that I like, I still have to leave after a few years. Moving always inspires a forced optimism. We never know what lies ahead. Maybe it will be great. Nowhere ever is. Great is what we can build where we are, and that takes more time than I've ever been allowed to stay anywhere.

what are the chances

My mental health has really nose dived these last few months. To some extent, to be expected, as the stress of moving looms closer, but I was also a lot more optimistic about how this could go. It all seemed pretty straight-forward and achievable. This is from an unfinished blog post that never got posted. I wrote it back in May.

This is the first time I'll be moving on to a new chapter, without leaving the place I'm in. I like it here. I no longer long to live somewhere more urban. New York and San Francisco aren't what they used to be. Burlington may hardly be a city in comparison, but it has almost anything I'd want. The food is good when I have anyone to eat it with. I don't feel like I'm in the middle of nowhere, but the middle of nowhere is always just a short drive away.

It's beautiful here, but like everywhere else, my lack of transportation poses a problem. I can get into Burlington easily enough and most of what I need is within reach, including the gym. What I can't do is get out into the countryside, where most of the beauty is. I can't go hiking or camping or any of that, not easily enough to ever do it. Grocery shopping is a pain in the ass. I've been afraid to move too far from my gym. Etc, etc.

As I have to move though, I've realized that I qualify for subsidized housing. There's a long waiting list, but I can pitch a tent in my Aunt's yard or something while I wait. They're out in Colchester, which made me panic at first. I'd be stranded.. except no, I'd finally be able to afford a car for the first time in my life.

I can be a good driver, albeit on the careful side. Cars do scare me. Accidents happen, and when they happen in cars it can be pretty bad. In the past, I never wanted to go anywhere, so it didn't matter so much. Back then, a car would get used a few times a month. My life is a lot different now. Not having a car is an impediment in lots of ways. There are all sorts of things I never even think about doing, that I'd suddenly be able to do.

It feels like my life could be about to change quite a bit. I feel a strange optimism about it, even if the chapter begins with me living in a tent for a few months. The path looks clear for life to go relatively well, but it could also go all wrong in any number of not terribly unlikely ways. What are the chances everything just keeps going wrong though😬

For one thing, I didn't expect my family here to say no to everything. Can't have a car because parking would be a hassle. Can't drive anyhow, because my first time behind the wheel in over twenty years did not go that well. Can't store my stuff there, because they've got orders of magnitude more junk of their own. Can't have a tent, because what would the neighbors think. They might think something crazy like, why the hell aren't you letting him sleep in the house?

When every little problem is treated as insurmountable, it only makes sense to conclude that they don't care and they don't want me living there. It's all motivated reasoning. They have all sorts of reasons, but I'm about to be homeless and just needed to wait for that subsidized housing. This should not have been hard.

Turns out, my new chapter starts with leaving again, after all. This time for Philadelphia. If everything goes as planned, I'll be back in Vermont in a few months, but what are the chances everything goes as planned? I'm flying out with a one way ticket on the 29th, my life's possessions reduced to what I can carry with me. I will not have a home there, but a place to stay for a month or two. Maybe more, if it goes well. Maybe not. 

Leaving behind every positive routine that was holding me together and keeping me moving forward, I'm being evicted from Vermont entirely, thrust into the unknown. I don't know what healthy routines I'll be able to pull together. I don't know what my mental health will be like, or what options I'll have, to make the most of the situation.

My whole life is here in Vermont. My whole life will be gone in two weeks. I'm trying to be optimistic, but how in the world would I not be freaking the fuck out over all this?

new plan

At first the idea struck me as awfully random and ill-suited to my problem. A huge part of that being that I don't want to leave Winooski. It takes me years to acclimate to a place, to develop routines, and maybe even form connections. It's also the first place I've lived that didn't make me want to live somewhere else. I like it here, for the first time in my life.

I figured if I'm going to leave, I might as well go live die in Florida with my mom. If moving somewhere else is an option, I could find lots of places more affordable. I could move back to Pittsfield or out into middle-of-nowhere Vermont. It's beautiful there, but that would be a huge disruption to my life. There are no MMA gyms in the middle of nowhere. Rent is affordable in places that lack everything else.

It's also a strange option, because I can already afford to rent a room. In theory, I could rent a room here, well within my budget. I'd live in the extra bedroom of a stranger's house. In reality though, I'd have to go look at places, hoping the stranger I'd be living with thinks I'm a good fit. It's a weird situation, and you never know what you'll be dealing with. That alone is a step that gives me too much anxiety to take.

It helps a lot when the interaction begins with understanding that I'm in a tough situation and wanting to help. Understanding that I have mental health issues, and being ok with that. I struggle with any interactions in which the response might be sorry, no, you're not good enough. We all do, sure, but I've avoided that entirely my whole life. The more I've fallen apart, the less likely I am to start overcoming that anytime soon. Once I've got my foot in the door, I do a lot better.

It also helps that this particular room is in Philadelphia. A much more interesting place than Pittsfield. I'll be able to find a gym there, not to mention lots of other stuff bigger cities have that Burlington does not. I can think of it as a nice diversion, an adventure, and the person offering to rent the room to me seems like a nice person, someone who is also a vegan, and more open to sharing food than other room rental situations are likely to be. A stranger, but one who seems like someone I'll get along with. I have family nearby, it will be great to finally be able to visit. 

This plan gives me a lot to look forward to, and all of it helps. Most importantly, it's a plan, without much that can go wrong. It feels reliable and achievable. There isn't much to feel anxiety about, except moving itself. Which is itself no small amount of anxiety.

I have a place to go, but I'll have to leave most of my stuff behind again. It would all be cheaper to replace than to store. Big items like my heavy bag and stand, I'll never be able to set up again. I have to sort out what I can take. There's an annoying gap of a few days between when I can travel and when I'm being evicted. I may have to rent a hotel room for a week. Lots of hassle and relatively daunting crap to deal with, but it's all doable.

Then in a few months give or take, I should be able to come back to Winooski, to settle into my Subsidized Housing Complex for the Elderly and Disabled. It sounds like a rather depressing end goal, but if I can afford a car, I won't be spending so much time there. I'll finally be able to go out and see the parts of Vermont that I moved here for.