At Limbo

I needed to face facts, to admit it. I’ve been in an awful funk lately. My move has not been the carefree experience I thought it would be. I mean, come on! Who wouldn’t assume that? Leaving the big, bad city, the stress-fueled jobs, the politics of every day life. Getting away from addictions and happy hours and large quantities of people who would simply rather not be bothered, no matter how close you consider them as friends. It seemed like moving was just the ticket. My mom has always called me a ‘runner’ after all. Get a new roommate, a new community, a new job, a new outlook – isn’t that how it’s supposed to work? It’s succeeded before. This time, though, as much as I’ve met some great people and have finally found a job, the move is just not working the way it was supposed to.

It’s time for drastic action.

I admitted the funk and yesterday I drove 300+ miles, chased down the east coast by heat lightning, Paramore & Lady Gaga mix tapes to keep me company. The top was down, the sun was setting, and I was free. This freedom? Exactly what I want in this world. I’ve been fighting Limbo for so long that I’m tired of the constant battle; I’d forgotten that the girl I used to be was one who embraced Limbo. I reveled in it. I’ve been trying for the last 2 years to figure out who I am, but I think I might have just been denying it rather than ignorant to it.

Today I’m taking it all in, sitting on my parents’ porch in South Carolina yet again (sometimes you just need to see your parents, and sometimes they just need to see you) with the family cat that hates me. I’m counting my blessings and working on a mental list of things that just make me happy right now, because a girl always needs it in her back pocket.

What’s on your list these days?

from drinkingupstream @ wordpress

I’m feeling much better these days than I was when I last posted. Thank you everyone for the words of encouragement and the birthday wishes yesterday! Yes, I survived 25. I remember last summer, coming up on the big Quarter Of A Century and feeling wrung out but hopeful. I was ready for 24 – an age that saw my personal life take turns I’d never expected nor welcomed – to be over with. I was curious as to what 25 would hold, what I would make of the next year of my life.

And here I am, post-25, officially 26. And I’ve come to a conclusion: the day before I turned 25 was just like the day before I turned 26, the only differences being the location and the players. Rather than my personal life falling apart during 25, it was my professional life as I knew it. I left the city I love, my home in this world, and over a month later I still don’t know if that was the best idea. I’ve got a job, which is something to cheer me up, but it’s not the sort of job I ever saw myself in, and I’m not even sure if it’ll pay my bills.

I thought, at almost-25 that heartbreak and loneliness and fear were the worst things that could happen to a girl. That turning 25 would solve all that drama and give me new strength to battle through the day. I was wrong. Limbo is difficult no matter your age, no matter your job, your place, your drama. Limbo is about not knowing who you are, and the struggles we go through to find that out.

I’m still working on it. I’m enjoying myself in the mix, serving drinks at a local club and making new friends everyday. It seems my grand plans for moving South have been adjusted; rather than grand, I’m feeling cautious, taking baby steps. I’m hoping to get more involved here – I’d love to meet the local Young Republicans, find a church, and spend time with the friends I’ve made – before I make any big decisions. Perhaps that’s the first step out of Limbo, just taking a deep breath and seeing where you are once you’re done with that.

I’m trying to remember this woman (she once defended her own honor at 12-years-old and was told by her great-grandmother not to bow to a church she didn’t believe in… She seemed fearless). She said once:

“I believe in books, politics, honesty, writing, sex, history, blogging, trust, choice, public displays of affection, God, the strength of a well chosen word, fantasy, pride, film, forever, hugs, shoes, the power of touch, possibility, hope, family, love, and music. I love intensely; I leave marks; I burn bright. I’m proud of the work I’ve done; I’m still young; I have so much more to do.”

Didn’t she once decide to move to Cuba, and then go and do it? I remember so well, when she first moved to D.C., sneaking downstairs at night to put on pointe shoes and dance on the stage of the amphitheater as if she owned it. The lights shining down, the warm air… She was someone who wore short skirts because she felt strong in them; who never wanted to sleep because it would mean missing out on whatever happened next.

Now it seems like she simply can’t sleep at night, for what reason she has no clue.

On my way to my first SoVA interview – a temp agency, this morning – my new, temperamental, 21-year-old convertible decided to stall in the center lane of a highway at a stop light. After stalling, it simply would not start again. I tried turning it fully off, pumping the gas a bit, and restarting. Nothing. It turned over, but there no gas getting wherever gas needs to go in the engine (I know cars, but not their insides).

So there I am, in my lovely, angry, yellow Cavalier Convertible Z24, in the center lane of a high way with absolutely nowhere to go. A large truck behind me started honking its horn despite the two empty lanes on either side of me (seems like most people would just go around the offending car in such an instance, but not this morning!), a State Trooper saw me and drove right by. I began to panic – my car may be little, but I am much, much smaller and not capable of doing a danged thing about a car that won’t move of its own accord.

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I have spent most of my life working in one way or another. A million extracurricular activities, varsity sports, summer study programs, internships, three jobs & two programs in college… I haven’t taken a real break – one that lasted longer than a week – since I was four years old (which is when I started dance school and competing in beauty pageants). I have always had something else on my mind, something that needs to be done. Sleep has never come easy. Anxiety disorder was a bit of a give in by the time I was diagnosed bipolar in high school. I have struggled with human relationships on every level because in my mind the work has always been far more important. How can people admire you, respect you, love you – if you haven’t done anything worthy of that love? If you haven’t put the work ahead of your own well-being, how can you hope to achieve anything that’s truly good?

Some people find faith and fulfillment through art, religion, family. I have always found it through the work.

Until now.

I’m leaving.

I’ve never pictured myself outside of D.C. Outside of the politics that I love so much. I never thought I wouldn’t have the Front Page to drown my sorrows, the Mall to sooth my aching heart in times of need, or a cab to bring me home when the night has gotten a little too late. I have been here my entire adult life and I don’t know where to begin saying goodbye.

I must though. The beach calls my name, and I’m moving in less than a week. I’m going to continue writing, though you’ll notice changes about the place – beach bum life will probably not come easy to me, and we’ll see how long it takes for me to shake D.C. off my boots, but I hope you’ll join me as I do it. After all, it’s still Limbo out there in the wide world, isn’t it?

I’m listening to Joni Mitchell today, because her bluesy, unorthodox perspectives on love, family, and life are just right for me right now. I find myself, more often than not, in a thoughtful mood as of late. This is not my Summer norm, or, really, any kind of norm for me, but I’m enjoying it. I feel like I’m feeling out Limbo for all it’s possibility, trying to smile more and scrunch my forehead less.

In pursuit – or perhaps, practice? – of this new point of view, I took a couple days off from the campaign trail last week and spent them with visiting friends from the Rural North (where I spent my first 18 years). Seeing them for the first time in 5+ years was heart-stopping in itself, but having the wonderful time with them that I did? I don’t know that words will work, and so I’ll say it with pictures. First, my thoughts on the new ideal, and photos & lessons from my ‘vacation’ right here in D.C. after the jump.

Thing the First – There is so much more to life than work, first of all. I was happier & healthier for those 3 days than I have been in months. Not just work-wise but life-wise. I ate better (and without complaint!), slept soundly, laughed freely, walked miles upon miles and didn’t feel half dead thanks to it… I shed this stress that I’ve worn so heavily for so long, and all it took was a familiar smile.

I need to be healthy like this more often; not necessarily taking work off to do so, but I need to find that balance in life. I’ve never been particularly good at it, and D.C. certainly doesn’t lend itself any sort of work/life balance; but I’ve seen the light and I’m determined now.

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I think the grey days of Spring adversely affect my mood in a way that even deep Winter can’t achieve. However, I came across this le Carre quote and felt an immediate connection. Success, like an all-night drive, leaves you lonely whether you can see it for what it is or not. Ambition, insanity, depression, self-preservation – they all put you outside of the warm embrace of your loved ones, your friends, your social circles. And you have to choose between hazy Summers of romantic flings and barbecues, and doing what you feel is right. It doesn’t feel good, having to choose, and on cold days in May it feels like it gets into my bones more than usual.

Coming home from very lonely places, all of us go a little mad: whether from great personal success, or just an all-night drive, we are the sole survivors of a world no one else has ever seen; John le Carre

shallwego / tumblr

Not-so-Lost in Wonderland... Alice for Galliano

A year ago today I moved from my old address to atlimbo. It’s been a ridiculous year; one of much more change than almost any in my life before, and I’m not just talking in the obvious sense. Yes, I’ve moved. Yes, I’ve left my day job for my dream job. Yes, I’ve made DC my true home in this world. But other than the big things, I find that I’m a different person than who I was a year ago.

From music-obsessed to political-minded, from scattered and scared to determined, ambitious. I don’t allow myself to be used in even the most insignificant ways anymore, having learned that the little things add up to what we are. I find myself settled into being alone in a way that I didn’t know possible, I’m content with it. I’ve sent most of my possessions – collections I was proud and protective of – 600 miles south and I’m okay without it all. I have no real space in this world that is ‘mine’ at all – my office is mobile, someone else’s apartment is my home. I’m still finding my way through Limbo, but I feel like I have some better orienteering tools than ever before and that alone is making the journey much less bumpy.

I used to believe that Limbo was this awful in between – this stasis between where we come from and what we want to be; however, I come back more and more to what I wrote about Limbo when I first arrived here: “It is neither heaven nor hell, solid ground nor airy flight.” Floating does not mean one is directionless, and looking back on my first year here at Limbo, I’m grateful for the soft landings, the dizziness, and the space that Limbo affords me. Another look at the last year after the jump…

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Three has always been a good number to me. I’m not quite sure why, though I’ve definitely always preferred odd numbers (even better if they’re prime). I’m not much of a math person, but the idea that something – like a prime number – can be so wholly unique just always struck me as sort of beautiful.

But anyway, today is a particularly important three in my book – my third to last day at the Day Job. See, I’ve never done anything like this before: leaving stability for the unknown, changing things up *gulp* on purpose. And so, in honor of three more days I bring you, some of my favorite threes. What’s your favorite number? Any significant reasons? Do you have a favorite trio? Let me know!

• Goldilocks’ story
• Starting lines
• Group photos (3, 2, 1, Cheese!)
• The Twilight series (because we all know it ended with Eclipse)
• The Goo Goo Dolls – John Rzeznik, Robby Takac, & Mike Malinin.
• The original Star Wars movies
• “Three Blind Mice” (the only song I could play on my recorder in 4th grade)
• The three fingers scene in Inglourious Basterds
• Being Catholic and all, the Holy Trinity needs a shout out here
• The fact that there are 3 Abrahamic religions (Islam, Judaism, &  Christianity)
• Freud
• The Three Musketeers (the book & the candy bar!)
• The third time’s the charm
• The Golden Trio (Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, & Hermione Granger)
• The third book of the Harry Potter series is my favorite (Harry Potter & The Prisoner of Azkaban)
• The Triplets of Bellevue

If you had three wishes, what would they be?

So, what would you wish for? Anything in the world, any lesson you’d need to learn, any place you’d want to be.