Every few years throughout my life, I’ve ripped up everything by the roots and planted myself somewhere new. It’s been four years now since the last time. As I moved my stuff into this house, including the boxes that still held unpacked items from my last 4-5 moves, I swore, as I always do, that this move would be the last.
Two days ago I put my house on the market.
This move is going to be hard and fast. The universe has opened the door for me but it’s not going to stay open for very long. It’s not as if the yellow brick road is leading from my door to the emerald city. I still don’t have an address, a location, and my son needs to be enrolled in 5th grade soon. If he’s not there by the first day, I’d like him to be there by the first or second week. Schools in the areas I’m looking at start August 27 – 28th, which gives me a very short time to prepare. I don’t have the luxury of waiting for my house to sell before I move. I don’t have a job in my new location. I have a partner of 18 months there and the energy of a city that I love. I have the possibility of creating community, perhaps working somewhere that appreciates my experience. Perhaps I will start a private practice for LGBT couples. Maybe I will become involved in psychodrama training. Maybe I will finally have a life again.
I didn’t know when I accepted a job and bought my first house over three years ago that I was embarking on one of the most difficult periods of my life. I thought the opposite. I thought I had arrived somewhere, and that I had achieved some things. When I used to watch The Twilight Zone I had no idea that one day I would live there.
I was going to rent my house at first. I contracted with a rental company and wrote them a check, signed a contract and watched them put a sign in my front yard. I tried to keep an open mind when the lady came to show the house and complained that my beautiful Russian Sage in the front yard was “infested” with honey bees. I removed my Tibetan prayer flags and hid my Buddha statues before she came. People in these parts are threatened by that kind of stuff. I figured I should also remove the picture of my beautiful butch partner from my mirror where she looks out at me each day, all tatted up. Out here in The Twilight Zone everyday is like a game of “One of these things is not like the other”.
When I called the property management company three weeks later to ask when my house would be placed on Craigslist she acted defensive and annoyed, She sighed and said, “I’ve been really buried” with a tone that said, “You should feel bad for asking”. I’ve heard that tone before. I’ve heard it constantly over the last three years. By the next day I had made my decision. I didn’t want to be dealing with this from afar. I needed to let go.
I needed to let go of the mess that the last three plus years have been. My toxic job, and the toxic people who have come in and out of my life in this time period. The blundered real estate deal that I had to go to small claims court to resolve. The nasty third grade teacher my son had to suffer with. My decline in health and all that has ushered in. The surgeries, the medicines. The drugs. The dismantling of the family I was born into culminating with the death of my mother. The long road to licensing in my profession. The lack of community and the narrow-minded people in this stuffy little bee phobic town. It’s done.
And now, finally, when that small voice inside of me asks yet again, if it is really over, I can say, “Yes”.