Moving Woes

Today I paid rent for the last time in a wonderful apartment complex I have lived in for 8 years. It was my first time away from the security of home, and then the first time totally living on my own.

It’s dumb things like this that make me contemplate, consider, and over think, usually as some sort of montage of the things that have happened while at the place, seen through that frosty glass of nostalgia and delusion. Suddenly, all becomes fun and positive, the good takes the forefront, and you don’t remember the bad. Like coming to loathe my roommate so much that the sound of his key in the lock would send me fleeing from the room. The time I almost died. The recovery after my surgery after said near death when I watched Spongebob and drank grape juice for 5 weeks while I was high on Oxycontin after having part of my innards removed because of some freakish congenital narrowing of my small intestine. My grandmother, my most endearing and positive mothering influence, passing away from cancer.

Then I remember the feeling of cleansing and happiness and optimism when I moved into this one bedroom with my (now) ex. The feelings of happiness and absolute surety that things would work out, only to find that he had been unemployed for about a month, and had lied about his previous job for five. The feelings of stupidity for having believed him, though I was one of many who had no reason to doubt him. The subsequent breakup and the feelings of being stretched so thin financially while dealing with the end of a 3 year relationship. The scrimping by, the saving, the financial finagling I had to do in order to get by.

But, there was good and there was plenty of it. I learned, and I don’t mean like The Tower tarot card, that I learned through the complete and disastrous breakdown of everything I knew, that all these terrible things taught me to be more patient and kind. I think they did, but that’s not what I mean. I came to know myself, to feel like a grownup for the first time. I had a wonderful relationship with a great person for 3 years (the end notwithstanding) who I still consider among my best friends and possibly more. I met several friends I will have for a lifetime, friends who (all unknowing) revived seasons and holidays from the bitter ashes of my youth into fun, charming things again, who fostered a sense of family within me. I got to see my grandmother weeks before her death, to tell her I loved her over and over again, and I will always have the memories. And she is no longer in so much pain that it hurt my heart to witness. I had my first novel published. I got the acceptance for a short story for an anthology. I had many moments of fun as coworkers turned into real friends (only the fourth and fifth time that has ever happened–I still talk to the other three).

I loved, I lost, I gained, and I (hopefully) became a better person.

Perhaps the next place, a small room I will be renting, will be as fulfilling. And I still have the better part of a month here to say goodbye.

And to hopefully stop being so goddamned sentimental. Bwahahaha!


~ by Darren Endymion on February 3, 2014.

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