The roomies and I did a bunch of crap this weekend. It’s still not remotely close to being over. But we’re closer. Despite us all being utterly exhausted and one of us feeling ill. We did good, and I feel a lot better about the next few weeks…though AHHHH.
I thought I’d share a few interactions we had. Because we are funny. Well, I am. ;)
J: Hey Alma. Want this?
*holds up his Superman onesie, that no longer fits*
Me: But I’m a girl. I can’t be Superman. I need to be Wonder Woman.
Me: OOOH!!! It has a cape! OKAY!
J is going through a pile of his clothes, including lots of underwear. I’m holding a trash bag, and he’s throwing stuff at me that he doesn’t want.
*J throws a pair of underwear. It nearly hits me in the face.*
J: The’re clean.
Me: Oh. But they touched your balls.And you sweated on them.
J.R.: If you stop being grossed out, he’ll stop throwing them at your face.
Me: I know. I’m just 12.
J, to J.R.: If a cop in Denver ever tries to pull you over, don’t do it.
J.R.: But then there’ll be a high speed chase.
J: Well, if they catch you, tell them you know your rights and you were in fear for your life.
Me: Your white maleness is showing. She’s white and female. If she pulls over, they won’t do anything to her.
J.R.: I would just tell them to please not to kill me.
J: Then they’d really shoot you.
Me: OH MY GOD. I found duct tape! This is like Christmas morning!
Me: I just ran out this morning.
J: That’s what you’ve said about like everything ever, and it’s why we now have six of everything.
Me: OH MY GOD. I found my mattress pads. And new t-shirt sheets!!!
J: Why aren’t they on your bed?
Me: Because we’re moving. I didn’t want the cats to puke on them.
Him: I told JR you’re a very type A. When you wrote that to-do list, I got an email each time. I had like 154 emails last night.
Me: Oh, really? I’m not THAT type A. *pouts* Okay. Maybe a little. Okay. Maybe a lot.
Me: I LIKE LISTS, OKAY?! Don’t you judge me.
J, as Seinfeld: I’m not judging.
Me: Stop doing your Seinfeld.
J: You drive me to Seinfeld.
Me: I won’t say anything snarky about J’s singing.
J.R.: I think you want to.
J: You’re so mean to me.
Me: I’m not mean to you. You’re mean to me, you meanie. SO MEAN.
J: I’m not mean. You’re mean.
Me: YEA? Well, I’m the meanest. So, there.
J.R.: I love you guys.
In many ways, I am just like my mother. When things are chaotic, I get the same look on my face that she used to have. I worry and fret–and want to know everything about everything. And I clean. So much. Nothing makes me feel better when I’m terrified than cleaning things and ridding myself of crap I don’t need.
So, while–yes–I was pretty damn scared last night about finally leaving my beloved Denver and all the memories this city holds–but mostly about leaving all the things that encompassed my life with my parents–today felt good.
I was a bit frustrated at times, but mostly, I did a lot of work. It helped me feel better about being able to get it all done. The roomies and I decided to do the bulk of this weekend’s work tomorrow–which will be exhausting, I’m sure–but we did get a lot of planning done. Whatever I can’t do, we’re hiring a mover to do. The tricky part will be timing since there is so much to do before we go. Namely, I want to get a tattoo and get my hair done before we leave–because I’m so picky about such things. And I want to do a day-trip to Never Summer and Mount Evans. I invited the roomies along, since one has never been, and the other was with me when I scattered the rest of Mama’s ashes years ago. I think I’ll also go on a solo trip to the old neighborhood and I’ll visit my Daddy’s grave too. I should see people, too, I suppose–but I’m debating not doing that. Mostly because leaving is going to be SO HARD–and seeing people sad I’m going will make it that much harder.
I mostly just need to say goodbye to my parents and this difficult chapter of my life. Leaving Denver represents a very big new beginning. One that is about things I choose–and not what I inherited. It’s not just leaving home or my parents’ memories. It’s leaving behind all the pain that happened here and embracing the life I earned–and chasing the life I actually want. Things here are still so hard, and life there will be so much easier–in so many ways. All new adventures. And maybe that will finally allow me to heal in the ways I can’t here in Denver.
I’m already crying.
It’s taken me so long–so many false tries–but it’s actually happening now. In six weeks. And I don’t have to do everything alone anymore.
It’s gonna take some time to adjust. But I’m hoping this is the start of so many wonderful new things. Or at least a few interesting detours instead of running around the same painful circles.
My roommates are in town this weekend to help pack things up in preparation for what will be the last leg of the Longest Move in the History of Moves. In about six weeks, we’ll be driving cross-country with three cats.
Even though it’s been this crazy long journey with all kinds of detours, it hasn’t felt completely real. I think that’s because–whenever we finally got this close before–we would push it back. Mostly because money was tighter or we didn’t feel like we had enough time. Or our cat almost died. Over and over and over again. We had so many detours, and I’ve felt like my life has been splayed across two states–which it really has, actually.
It’s just felt like it would never end. I was actually pretty happy to have a few more months in Denver, but now that we’re just six weeks away from closing this chapter–I dunno–I’m freaking out a bit. I wasn’t until tonight–when I realized this is the last roommate visit before we actually get all the stuff that’s left and finally hand over the keys.
I wasn’t like this when it was just me going. It was fine then. But taking all the stuff, handing over the keys, and finally smashing three lives together? I’m nervous and emotional about it.
For one–it’s a risk. A real risk. If something goes wrong, there’s no safety net. For two–there are other things making me doubt how wise this is. And well, then, there just leaving this place that has always just been home. And my parents. How do I finally leave them? It feels like it’s for good–though I *know* it’s not. I’ll come back. But it will never be the same. I’ll never be the same.
I’m terrified we won’t have enough time to pack it all up–and basically–it’s all me until we go. How do I do all of this? I’ve procrastinated so much. Everything is such a struggle for me when it comes to closing this door–like as much as I want to go–something else is begging me to stay. And, well, yes–that’s exactly what’s happening.
I feel like I won’t have time to say goodbye to them–to drive to Never Summer or do the things I need to.
And I need to, right? I do. This was my idea.
But it would be so easy to stay. To just forget about this silly thing. To just not even go.
I feel like a little girl–probably because that part of me is what is driving these feelings. And I have six weeks to heal that part of me and finally say goodbye.
That’s what I’m afraid of. But I’ll keep fretting about boxes and whether I should buy a new mattress.
I actually slept pretty well, despite waking up starving at 2:30 am after that nightmare. I was still kind of in a shitty mood. Mostly because my thumb/wrist still hurt and I had a decently busy day today–but one of those unproductive busy days. And then there was the news about Nice–which I had managed to avoid by not logging into social networks. Of course, it always happens eventually–and when it does? There’s nothing like a mass murder to put me in a foul mood.
But it got better, mostly because of something I’ve noticed often. How–when I am my most exhausted by this world–the world seems to show up and show me it’s still worth investing in.
Too often, life is really hard. But these moments make up for it and help me remember how lucky I am–and how beautiful the world usually is.
(Bear with me here…my wrist is injured, so typing is a bit challenging).
I was so tired after work on Thursday that I literally ended up passing out with Fogg and slept for about 7-8 hours. I wish it was some restorative sleep that made me feel fantastic upon waking, but it definitely wasn’t. Instead, I woke up utterly starving since I didn’t eat, and my thumb was in a lot of pain. I think I slept on it wrong. In any case, I feel like I have tendonitis. It will move, just really painfully. It’s now approaching 2:30 am, and I feel like I should eat some dinner, but considering I have to be up in four hours for work, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.
I really shouldn’t be writing this either, but I had a dream–a Mama dream–and it was bad. Before I lose all the details, I’m just going to brain dump to get it out and recorded somewhere. If any of you have any insight into wtf is coming out of my brain, please do share.
So, in this dream, I’m in present day Denver, but I’m living by myself in the house I shared with my Mama as a child. Only my Mama is alive, and she is not living there. She seems to have been living there up until recently, but she is now elsewhere–kinda like what’s been going on with my roommate. (This is interesting, actually, because my last Mama dream involved my Mama essentially acting in the role of my roommate, leaving CA to go to Denver…super weird).
Our home isn’t freestanding like it actually was before. It is instead connected to a bunch of other homes like a big multiplex, all in a row, with the parking lot in front. I’m home alone, and it’s approaching nighttime. It’s pouring down rain, and I hear screaming coming from outside. Our living room window and the upstairs windows are covered in heavy bedspreads and blankets–so you can’t see out easily. I remember we did this once in the living room when we were remodeling to keep light/bugs/noise out at night. I manage to peek outside, and I notice an entire row–like hundreds–of KKK members in full garb–outside of our homes. They are yelling and carrying megaphones. Then they start picking up big rocks and start throwing them at the homes–breaking windows. One rock actually comes into my living room–and our windows start breaking–but nothing inside the house is disturbed.
I get on the phone and call the cops. I say my name and that this is happening. Instead of going to a 911 dispatcher, it goes directly to a cop who says they know nothing about it–and asks–didn’t this happen last month? I say I don’t know, but they’re doing it now, and I need help. He says he’ll be over soon. When I’m talking to him, apparently, the KKK can hear me. And this man–in full KKK garb–this angry, small, red-faced man comes through the broken window–like a ghost since he doesn’t actually disturb anything and just seems to float inside–and screams at me that he’s going to get me.
He then disappears and all of them go away. I go upstairs to survey the damage and make sure they’re gone. I see cars parked sideways, and there is then a bunch a police cars parked in the driveway of a neighbor across the street. It starts pouring down hail.
A few minutes later, my Mama shows up–saying we need to move now–that we shouldn’t wait. We start throwing everything in garbage bags.
And then I wake up.
I woke up with this wrist and thumb pain. I’m not sure if I was doing something with my wrist as I was dreaming, but I woke up with this horrible pain right on the wrist for the muscle that connects to the thumb. There’s even a red splotch and definite inflammation. I tried massaging it and took some ibuprofen. I have a wrist guard from my carpal tunnel loveliness on it now. Guess I should sleep with that thing on, huh?
I think I will go get something to eat and try to get back to bed. Oy.