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sometimes all you need is a couple of friends and a few bottles of wine

August 7, 2011

Somewhere, somehow, when you least expect it, you trip and fall down the rabbit hole. And there you are upside down, inside out, tumbling, wondering what the hell just happened, trying to grasp at anything, anything that will catch your fall.

These are the things you shouldn’t write. The things you shouldn’t voice lest you come across as an ingrate, an ornery child, a petty person, a weakling. This is your shame. This is the guilt that feeds on your shame. This is your vulnerability speaking. Through a microphone because it wants to be heard. This is that part of yourself that needs tending and it doesn’t know how to ask for it, so it throws a tantrum instead. This is you wanting to punish yourself for throwing that tantrum. These are the ugly bits. The cellulite and stretch marks and wrinkles of your mind. This is you looking a bit sad. The color of your sadness is purplish-grey like a bruise. The shape of your sadness is a nimbostratus cloud. The sound of your sadness is an untuned organ. This is you afraid to admit that you are sometimes sad. This is the way you judge sad: sad = bad. These are your fears. They’re really, really scary. They are like giant hairy spiders with 8 eyes. These are the things that hurt. This is where the band-aid was ripped off. This is the sceptic cut that you should have washed from the start but you let it fester, you shrugged it off as a flesh wound. It has gone deeper. This is the part of you that is not bubbly nor sunny. These are your hormones. They look like lightning and sound like thunder and smell like burning rubber. This is you feeling inadequate. You’ve been feeling that way a lot lately. This is the part of you that needs to be held gently. This is you sharing all these things with a couple of friends over a few bottles of wine. This is you trying to hold back your tears. These are your friends listening to you. This is how they look at you, with understanding and kindness. These are the words of comfort they offer: you are going to be alright. This is how you feel at the end of those hours, relieved and not so alone. This is you letting go so that you can leave room for the good things. This is you knowing that your life is full of good things. This is you finding your way back to gratitude.

The truth is, people, this transition is hard. Amazing, uplifting, joyful moments have been met with equally heart wrenching, home longing, cryin’ myself to sleep on my bit fat pilla moments. Sure, I’ve been meeting a thousand people and haven’t had much of a moment’s rest since I’ve arrived so maybe I’m a little exhausted, which is making me a little overwhelmed, which is making me a little crazy and non sensical, which is making me miss home in a big way. But then the wiser part of me eventually gets a word in edgewise and pulls my head out of my own ass and calms the beast and reminds me that this is what I wanted. And then even wiser friends, who know me so well that they see me across the distance remind me that I am human, that it’s ok to feel this way, that I really ought to stop being so hard on myself. And my new friends sit me down at some sweet ass restaurant and get me drunk and let me vent without judgement and infuse humor into the situation and perspective (that I couldn’t possibly see with my head so far up my ass). And by the end of a Saturday afternoon…. everything feels ok again.

The British boy told me the other day: “It’s normal that this is going to be hard“. The idealist in me carefully calculated the amount of days I’ve been here and decided on some preconceived ideal notion that it was far too soon to be having such discussions, that everything should be perfect and peachy because we’ve waited so long to be with each other that we should have motherfucking glitter in our eyeballs every time we are together. He said he trusts that we will be ok. And I know we will… the only way to the other side of this transition is through. So, take my hand and let’s do this thing!

Greatness is not in where we stand, but in what direction we are moving. We must sail sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it– But sail we must, and not just drift, nor lie at anchor.” -Oliver Wendell Holmes

16 Comments leave one →
  1. August 7, 2011 7:00 am

    big hugs sweet girl…looks as though you’ve got some great guides to hold you up through it & they’re right you know, you’ll be alright & it’s OK to feel the growing pains that change brings.

  2. August 7, 2011 7:55 am

    Oh, I have been through some of this, yes. And your pictures tell such a beautiful story! Keep reaching forward and eventually you will be there xNatasha

  3. August 7, 2011 8:10 am

    everything–even the exciting and new–is stuck in the real. that’s the problem right there. nothing can be the way we thought it would. hang in there lovey. ❤ with a little time, you'll be home.

  4. August 7, 2011 8:29 am

    I recently read a quote by Graham Nash that said: “Life is not perfect, it never will be. You just have to make the best of it and you have to open your heart to what the world can show you. Sometimes it’s terrifying and sometimes it’s beautiful. And I’ll take both thanks.”

    That quote struck me. Change can be scary, or so I’ve heard since I’m often to afraid to make any. 🙂 It can be difficult and amazing and I have this feeling (although I don’t know you very well) you will find the lightness of it when you’re ready. Cry when you need to and feel every single dropped tear as it cleanses all the scary bits away. Then, wave goodbye to those tears on your pillow as they evapourate.

    Keep snapping – photos, I mean 😉 – and be by yourself when you need to feel lousy then grab the dress that makes you feel the best and gather around with all your new mates (or on your own, even!) and celebrate the day.

    I could definitely stand to do the same.


  5. August 7, 2011 10:06 am

    You inspire me with your courage – in choosing to make the change and in being honest about it. It makes me feel less alone in my own fears and reactions to change, lets me know that it’s ok to say “WTF?!?”, then to move through it. Thank you.

    You will be ok. You have your peeps and your own strength to carry you.

    Sending you hugs…

  6. August 7, 2011 10:15 am

    this living is fucking hard girl, and we have to push through it all – the dark and twisted, and the candy-colored glitter that i try to shove up my own pity party, time machined arse, because there is no time frame when it comes to big changes. this i know to be true. xo

  7. August 7, 2011 3:47 pm

    oh honey, i love you. and if i could have been there, i would have. even if i am a lightweight and would have passed out by the end of the third bottle. i know every dark hallway that you speak of. and i also know the light that gets in the cracks. can’t have one with out the other. but there is joy in all of it.

  8. August 7, 2011 5:12 pm

    Life really is a bipolar affair. Times of extreme passion and excitement, in my experience, tend to be wrought with loss and grieving too. It’s how you know you’re really doing something uncomfortable and fantastic.

  9. Alison permalink
    August 7, 2011 5:48 pm

    Beautiful inspiring comments here. I can say no better.

  10. Alison permalink
    August 7, 2011 5:50 pm

    One more thing, those chimneys lookl like Mary Poppins chimneys. I love them.

  11. August 7, 2011 6:26 pm

    Nothing worth doing is ever easy. (And if it was, everyone would be doing it!)
    I’ve been there on that move and that adventure and feeling like it wasn’t quite what I imagined….so that’s your gift, throwing out your old expectations and living each day, finding comfort in compassion in new friends and places. Go out exploring and romance yourself, don’t be could be stuck doing the same old boring thing day after day and feeling sad about that too…but you aren’t. 😉

    Glitter is for movie love and while movie love is great and all, it lasts only as long as the movie. You are there for real love. The dirty, gritty, everyday. Hold your heart out for someone to hold it when you get tired or sad or homesick.

  12. August 7, 2011 9:21 pm

    Thank you jeanine. I’m feeling rather the same today, and your words are healing and soothing.
    Lots of love to you.

  13. August 8, 2011 1:54 pm

    I imagine it would be really hard to leave home and start a new life.. but in a way, you are so lucky. Not many people get the opportunity that you have had. Embrace change, baby. Live it.

  14. Lisa permalink
    August 8, 2011 7:26 pm

    I swear by this.

    Wether it’s tears, laughter, joy, grief, shit, snot, anger, love, lust or otherwise. It WILL find a way to come out, to manifest and make itself be known in some shape or form.

    You are all the better, healthier and wiser to let swollen tears fall, laughter to spill into the open and the fear be known. The magic and the journey begin there.

    Now carry on with your bad, beautiful-self!

    xoxo, Lisa

  15. August 9, 2011 8:42 am

    I think you are so brave. I am sending you hugs and know you will weather the storm. Geez. I don’t like to be gone from my home for more than a week! I can’t imagine moving across the sea. I am so glad you have some good friends who lend their shoulders, and I am glad that you got to have a venting tantrum to release some of that pent up yucky stuff. Sail on! xo

  16. Linni permalink
    August 9, 2011 9:21 am

    the most amazing thing of this (difficult) journey, is that which is waiting for you at the other end…. when you’ve moved through it… the magic awaits xx

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