Friday, January 3, 2014

The In-Between


I hope everyone has enjoyed their holidays and that these first few days of the New Year are treating you all fantabulously well. I figured, with the return to the daily grind, now was the best time for me to resurface and begin sharing the Canterbury Tales of this new English life, these new Court-erbury Tales if you will {forgive my cheesiness}.

To be honest, it has also taken me this long to be objective enough (if such a thing is even possible when writing about yourself) to not write a completely reactionary and fear based account of the last 3 ½ weeks. The good, bad and ugly truth is that the last 3 ½ weeks have not been puppy dogs and rainbows, or even hearts. They have been tough. No word of a lie, I have been operating solely in fight or flight mode. 50% of the time my dukes are up, ok maybe closer to 75-80% and the rest has been resisting the temptation to cut and run. I was unbelievably naïve in thinking that this transition was going to be cake. Even if intellectually I was able to admit that this move would come with some difficulty, I was in no way prepared emotionally for what that really meant. Hence my whole feral cat backed into a corner modus operandi. Poor TomGong. Even with all my warnings and disclaimers on the kind of difficult woman and tricky animal I can be, I don’t think he was prepared for all this either. It feels like I’m wearing my skin inside out, so my natural tendency for sensitivity and defensiveness has been heightened a hundred fold. I in no way view this leap across the pond as a mistake or regret it. Sometimes a leap of faith is the only means of transportation on the journey of transformation. However, because the entire process of getting to this very point had flowed so magically I believed that waterfall effect was just going to continue once I arrived. Aaahhh, and here is where my naïveté comes into play. Waterfalls flow over something SOLID…over stony cliffs, tall mountain faces, down rocks in a stream. Since returning from my trip in 2011, I’d been exactly that…. solid and grounded on all levels. I was strong in who I am as a person and a woman in this world. I was confident in a city that can beat you down if you’re anything but. I was surrounded and uplifted by friends and family as tall and strong as the redwoods. I was respected in my day job and loved the people I worked for and with. I had routine. I had ritual. I had a car, hahahaha.

So then how could I expect this seemingly never ending outpouring of magic to continue when it has nothing solid over which to flow? I do not have my feet here. I am grasping for something to hold onto. I am in Limbo right now. To make a British pop culture reference, I am an in-betweener. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in this position, so I’d forgotten the feeling and it kinda blows. I know many of you are asking why if I’m looking to hold onto something, why not hold onto TomGong? Firstly, I am someone who needs to find her anchor within herself. Secondly, we are trying to find our feet together as a couple. While the love may be strong the relationship is still growing and is being tested right now. I am being tested right now. I’m trying to navigate so many things at once. I am more homesick for California and America in general than I ever expected to be having wanted this move for so long. Living with someone after having been on my own, living alone, for quite some time, is a bit of a shock to the system. I thought I would love being free of having a car because I’m so enthralled with any public transportation outside of L.A, but actually not having a car makes one’s world VERY small and my world already feels very small. Minus the actual holidays, I’ve been desperately applying to jobs every day and panicking I won’t find anything. Or more accurately, I’m panicking that I won’t find anything that I enjoy. Maybe it’s short-sighted, but I feel too ‘old’ to take a job that doesn’t inspire me in some way or further my interests. I miss my friends something fierce. Texting, Skype, and FaceTime all help… Thank Gawd for technology, but it’s obviously not the same as hiking in the morning with T, Happy Hour with Chelle, or Carlito’s shenanigans with Rina. I’ve also realized that I completely romanticized the cold and the rain. I DO like it, but only when it breaks the monotony of sun and warmth. I haven’t even been able to see the moon, which as you all can imagine for a moon goddess ritual junkie has been quite difficult. My internal rhythm is off because of it, seriously.

      I realize in a week’s time, a month’s time, etc all this angst could completely disappear, or at least dissipate and be replaced with a new job, new routines, new rituals, and an umbrella. I am not adopting the trait of ‘British optimism’ by complaining.(I jest)... I am someone who is honest… brutally honest, often times to a fault. I have to be. It helps me to process my life. It helps me move through times of in-betweeness and back to being a solid portal for magic, wonder and surprise.  And even in my state of discomfort and feeling lost, I am still proud of myself for throwing myself out of my comfort zone and doing epic shit like this. I clearly tend to go balls to the wall, but hey-ho. I’m so so grateful to the Universe for paving my path with hearts and fairy-dust. I’m grateful for an amazing man who knows I’m not easy but still thinks I’m pretty great, his kind and welcoming family who’ve held their arms wide open to me, and my own family and friends whose hugs and unconditional love I can feel through the ethers.

I am not one for New Year’s resolutions. I always have done a ‘letting go’ and ‘calling in’ fire ritual instead. As I search for something to anchor me right now, I made an exception. I turn once again to my my *querencia, writing. It has been my saving grace so many times in the past. So I have resolved to write every single day; a journal entry, a poem, a letter, or a blog post.  I treated myself to 2 new journals, one for the likes of poetry and prose, and another for self therapy…oh, and 2 new pens; black and purple of course. This simple goal inspired me to search out writing competitions which led me to stumble upon a couple poetry groups that meet once a month. As my computer was dying when I found them during my Café Nero wifi mooch session (as we still don’t have internet at home…damn Sky provider) I have no idea how close they are …. but at least I know they exist! It’s a place to start. Pen to paper is my magic wand as I enter this English hedge maze J (Can you tell we’ve been watching Harry Potter?)

*querencia: (Spanish): a place from which one’s strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self.

 

“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art – write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself!”----- Neil Gaiman

 

 May you all find or return to your querencia…
Happy New Year my loves!

XOXOXO

Love, Hugs and other ‘Drugs’