It seems like something you would read in a cheap, modern-feminist romance novel you pick up at the local drug store. A last addition to your basket filled with ibuprofen, microwave dinners, clearance sale mascara and cigarettes. Because who does this? Who packs up everything they own to put into storage knowing it is quite possibly the last time you will ever see that shit again? Who says goodbye to the people they love and couldn’t imagine life without? What kind of woman leaves her hard earned and beloved shoe collection to move to a country that she doesn’t even speak the language for? A dreamer? A “free-spirit”? A fool?
The answer doesn’t even matter, when it comes down to it. It is done. I am here.
We all have those moments in life, that wake us up in the middle of the night or, if your like me, that KEEP you up all night, forcing you to drink copious amounts of coffee to get through the next day. Replaying moments from the past, wondering how you got there and where you are going after. And after months of nights like those, it hit me. The only words I could put to the feelings were “my life has been on fast forward for too long”. An endless cycle of working too many hours, not making enough money for the work I did, trying to pursue and grow in my art despite having no time to do so. The never ending game of juggling terrible bouts of insomnia along with having a healthy social life, trying to maintain a healthy but distant relationship with a family that can tear you to shreds at a moments notice, trying to “date” but never letting anyone get close enough to hurt you… because Heaven forbid you have to go through that again. Trying to stay pretty but being recognized for being smart. Deciding which bills can be put off a little longer while you figure out how to pay the other ones. You know, all the fun stuff?
I knew I was leaving as soon as I set foot back in the States after this past summer’s travels. Which I tried my hardest to deny. Until the panic attacks set in. I guess that is life’s way of telling you that you aren’t doing what you should be doing. And so I made my decision. While brushing my teeth and looking in the bathroom mirror at my swollen eyes from yet another sleepless night of crying until I was sick. I knew I had to go. I was tired, exhausted and lonely. I needed to heal. I needed to breathe fresh air again. I needed to watch the tides go in and out. I needed to be around the creativity I had found during the summer. I needed to have time to eat a meal that didn’t involve a microwave. I needed to be in love again.
And so here I am. Doing just that. I miss my people so very much but I know they are all home rooting for me. I learned how to say “I can give you a fish” in French, as well as “Your breaking my balls”. Both are very helpful phrases. My skills at maintaining a wood burning stove are improving daily. My insomnia is nearly a thing of the past ( I hope). I have never eaten such amazing food on a regular basis in my entire life. And I can breathe. I don’t wake up to a racing heart anymore. I can smell the salt on the sea from my bedroom window. I hang out with French rockers and skateboarders and a lovely Scottish woman who loans me books. I climb big, blue rocks covered in moss and make photos. And where I live now, when the moon is full… you can damn near reach out and grab it.