Last night when I wrote this blog I confessed to having been a bit out of sorts by the close of the day. While it improved only slightly before I went to bed, I was at least able to pinpoint one of the sources of the “dissonance” I identified yesterday. I am apparently deeply affected by anniversaries–it took me years to notice that every spring I would have unexpected moments, times, hours of sadness, moodiness, and/or a general feeling of discontent. When I finally stopped to think about it, my blues almost always hit around the anniversary of my mother’s illness and death. I used to refer to the annual return of seasonal grief as my “mommy cells waking up.” Similarly, when my father died in late September (23rd) 2010, my “daddy cells” were activated and now make autumn–usually my favorite season–a little more melancholy than I’d like. While yesterday’s hum of dissonance could have been partially associated with the anniversary of my father’s passing, a much more recent anniversary was more likely the contributor to my overall funk. Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of my last day living in California.
The last night in the condo I had shared with my son I was sleeping on the floor writing my blog in the dark on my phone. I had turned off my cable and internet the day before so had no way to post it using my computer. I was so tired and the system messed up such that it didn’t post until two days later, but it made it online: day 443. As I look back on the last few weeks of September 2012, I recall what a terribly stressful time that was for me. I’d been packing for what seemed like months, waiting to hear whether or not a job I’d applied for back in March and interviewed for in July would come through. When it finally did and I negotiated my starting day and partial reimbursement for moving, I had less than three weeks to find a home 2900 miles away in the greater Washington metropolitan area, secure a mover, finish packing my stuff, figure out how I was going to come up with the remaining funds to move as well as put down a deposit on a new place. I barely had time to even ponder the emotional impact of leaving the state would have on me.
A year ago today (September 30) I was on the road with my big brother driving and Honor riding shotgun in the back seat. When I wrote my blog that night, 700 miles and 12 hours later, I was able to begin to articulate some of the feelings swirling around me as I departed.
Last night,I posted this blog from my phone somewhere around 3:30 a.m. I woke this morning at 6:30 a.m. and commenced to packing the car and getting the last few items out of my condo. It was an odd, bittersweet feeling as I closed the door to the place.
Tears of gratitude and a sense of loss filled my eyes. This place was a safe place for me to heal from the traumas of 2011. I never really settled in to the place; I guess I spent a number of months in some disbelief at what had happened to me. Perhaps I thought my partner would invite me back, or my old job would realize their mistake, or that this was some nightmare from which I would awaken. The walls of the condo absorbed my cries, echoed the strains of music as I played my guitar and sang myself happy, reflected the healing that was taking place as I first began writing this blog. It saw my son through his own series of challenges, and witnessed the challenges and triumphs that my daughter faced during the past year. The moon rising over the trees in the back parking lot, the antics of the rafter of wild turkeys who roamed the neighborhood, the raucous shrieking of the previously unknown dark headed junco who woke me many mornings before I learned how to drown out the racket with the white noise of the fan–these are gifts I will treasure from my time in the condo on Tesoro Court. (From Lessons in Gratitude, Day 444)
I had moved to California with a sense of anticipation, trepidation, and excitement. I was leaving emotionally battered and weary, but still standing on my own two feet and with my spirit relatively intact. I read back through the posts for those last few days in September (Day 442) as I began to come to grips with what my departure would mean. Now a year later I recognize that I am still affected by those days; and while I won’t say this anniversary has the same depth of meaning that the anniversaries of my parents’ deaths or other traumatic events, I definitely believe it accounts for some of the discontent I experienced over the last few days.
I am grateful for all that I’ve experienced in the last year or so. It has definitely not been easy, but it’s been good. I’ve learned and grown a lot and continue to do so every day. I don’t know exactly what’s next for me or when my what’s next will occur. In the meantime I’m living and growing and learning to go with the flow wherever it might lead me and feeling love and deep gratitude along the way.
