Setting sail.

Some new changes are coming up hard and fast.  As you know, I’ve been struggling for several months with wanting to move out of my apartment.  The urge to purge and start fresh has been nagging me, eating away at me really, so I finally made a decision. 

I’m moving onto a boat.  This is something I’ve wanted to do for a while now, and the perfect situation has presented itself.  I know some of you will think I’m crazy, but perhaps a little crazy is what I need right now?  I think in times of crisis (death, divorce), sometimes following your heart is the way to go, even if it seems different from what you’re used to.  I’ve been afraid of acting recklessly, of making a decision I can’t undo, but living in fear of my own decisions isn’t healthy either.  There comes a point where you have to go through it and see which new version of you comes out on the other side.  Life is not meant to be cautiously tiptoed around.   

Now I’m going through the process of packing.  The boat is fully furnished, so I truly am having to find a home for everything I own.  Jill has been gracious enough to loan me her basement for storage, so I can pick and choose what goes to the Goodwill and what stays.  I’m having a very easy time at it, not really hesitating on any of it, which surprised me.  I honestly thought sifting through everything would be really painful, and it’s not yet. . .though I haven’t had to close the door for the last time.  I imagine I’ll have to be carried down the hall.  

I made a firm decision to not bring anything of Luke’s with me, except a few pictures, the letters he wrote to me at Burning Man, and his antique Japanese box, which I still haven’t gone through.   Everything else has to go in storage.  It will sit there for a year, then when I revisit it perhaps I’ll be ready to part with silly things like his socks and receipts from Jai Thai.  I’m so thankful I have that option, to minimize and cleanse, but to not have to say goodbye to everything all at once.

As my apartment gets cleared out, piece by piece, I feel the impact as I realize I’ll have to say goodbye to this place where Luke and I shared our lives.  Our entire relationship, except a few months, all the ups and downs, the fights, the overwhelming love, the fear, the hope, the agony of his passing; all of it took place here, and it will be a bittersweet farewell.  

I know that if I’m going to be able to move forward with my life, I need to truly start fresh, and I see this as the first real step I’m taking into my new life.  Luke would never have lived on a boat.  This is 100% me, and yes it’s scary, but deciding to move in with Luke in the first place was scary, and look how that turned out (I wouldn’t trade it for anything). 

Last night as I was winding down, listening to music, Sia’s Breathe came on.  That song kills me, and the second it started I felt the tears coming.  I forced myself to listen, and not run to change the song.  It put me in the fetal position on the floor, and I am still amazed at how deeply I can cry, but admittedly, I felt better afterwards.  That’s the part I forget, that there’s a point to crying, it really is “getting it all out.”  I’m learning, slowly, to accept the emotions as they come.  My body knows what to do, my “heart” knows what it needs to go through to heal, and I need to trust that more. 

The only thing I am so sad to not be able to take with me is the beautiful mural Luke painted on our bedroom wall.  It’s set up to look like a screen, of a japanese cherry blossom tree, and he spent days perfecting each pink flower.  That is one thing I will truly have to say goodbye to, knowing that it will be painted over the next day.  Of course, that makes me think about the next people who will live there, and how they will have no idea the tragedy that was suffered there.  Ghosts.  How many ghosts lived there before me?  This reminds me that life is cyclical.  I find no greater meaning in it still, but somehow it helps me to remember that in 100 years, no one will remember this; no one will care and we’ll all be ashes.  It’s strange the things that bring me comfort.

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