Better Than Good, Actually

I'm in well-charted territory. It's far from my first rodeo. I know there are those who incredulously ponder my courage - after all I traveled across eight states (during Snowmageddon) to settle in a place where I knew a sum total of exactly one person. Some of those people question my sanity - Whyyyyyyyyyyy would I do this again?????? Others stand back in awe. I can tell you with every certainty that I am neither crazy (Full disclosure: I am medicated for anxiety) nor awesome. I've said that "This is just what I do," meaning I move and restart and move and restart again. Wash, rinse, repeat. I stay a few years, complain the whole time (usually not incredibly vocally - with the exception of Las Vegas), make plans, finally make the plans concrete, and Boom! I donate a bunch of sh** to Goodwill, load up the rest, and head out to parts (largely) unknown. 

Look, I don't relish the stress, the loneliness, the wondering if I'll ever find my "people." With each and every move, I know exactly what I'm getting into. How I'm feeling now? While not exactly comfortable, it's known. This is how it feels when you first arrive in a new place - a little lost, pushing the edges of your comfort zone, celebrating when you don't need GPS to find your way somewhere. Little by little, the discomfort dissipates and you need that GPS less and less. You're home. 

Well, in theory. You see, I've never actually found "Home." Not in the grand sense. And that's why I have kept moving. Each move has been a search for something that's been missing for over half my life. We all lose our sense of home at some point (We're grown and we can't really go home again. I mean, we could but our independence will likely never shrivel enough to tolerate our mom telling us to be sure we have our boots and to call when we get where we're going). As for me, just as I was experiencing my first blush of independence, I lost my both my sense of home and my actual home. In one giant swoop, I couldn't go home literally or figuratively. 

Many years of self-analysis and several stints in therapy have helped me understand why I continually searched for something others found so easily. All psycho-mumbo-jumbo aside, there comes a point when you just have to decide to stop then you have to actually stop. And that's where I am. Finally. Asheville, this place - is home. Partly because I've decided it will be so and partly because I feel something spiritual here. A connection of sorts. I first felt that kind of spiritual connection in Sweden, Stockholm specifically. Asheville is as close as I will probably ever come in the U.S. This is where the trail ends. This is where I will be. 

All the cool stuff about connection aside, I am currently mired in the usual ugly adjustment phase. Loving where you live makes it easier (I can safely say that), but not easy. Oh, I'll survive. As waves of uncertainty, loneliness, and sadness (more on that in a second) wash over me, I remind myself that I am buoyant. I may get knocked down, I may struggle to find my way back to the surface, but experience says that I will make it. I've done this gig five times. FIVE. I even done almost this EXACT gig once before. 

Suffice it to say that lightening can indeed strike twice. Eighteen years ago I arrived in east Texas full of hope for the future. The woman I loved and I were going to get a fresh-ish start in a place without the prying eyes of her family. We could live together, love each other, and not worry. That lasted three weeks. I got called out by the boyfriend of one of her co-workers ("Your roommate's a f***ing dyke), we had our first fight about something completely unrelated, and three weeks later she broke up with me and started dating the (male) doctor she would eventually marry. Fast forward to 2021. I arrived in western North Carolina with the tiniest modicum of hope in my heart. It was a crapshoot with weighted dice and I knew it when I decided to make the move. Asheville, though, was where I wanted to be and I thought maybe closing the "geography gap," as we called it, would give us a chance. We would be an hour or so away from each other and be able to date and spend time together without the long distance pressure. I'm not going to divulge all the details, but three weeks after arriving, I broke up with her. I sensed it's what she wanted but could not say and did the deed myself.

2003 was my first rodeo. Taken completely by surprise, I was devastated. I struggled for months and, if I'm honest, probably years. I have long since made my piece with her and all that. I can't say the current break up was a shock. It had been brewing for months, but I truly hoped that maybe the move would change things for us. If anything, it made things worse. I am far from devastated. Sad, yes - I miss her presence in my life. Truthfully, though, she left awhile ago so the transition to being single has been easier. I know what I need to do to recover and it's not mope and mire myself in what could have been. We never were what we never were. In other words, it is what it is. Fighting that fact, won't get me to the other side anytime soon.

And get this, y'all - I'm HOME. I'm in place I love and I'm staying. I like my job and my new store. I'm "putting myself out there" and pushing the edges of my comfort zone. I smile and laugh a lot. I'm enjoying new friendships. I know what it takes to make my way in a new place - patience, confidence, desire. I may struggle a little at times, but I'm good. 

Better than good, actually.