Drying out in Washington State

"What brought you to Washington?"

"A new life"

There it is again.

"Warrants?

"Funny you should mention that."

Washington is just beautiful.  It was the the perfect backdrop to be reborn.  The area code where I was is 360.  It took me almost the entire time that I was there to realize that that is what I was doing.  A 360.

Let me just go and get it out there that I'm a throwback hippie.  I'm a tree hugging, animal loving, make-love-not-waring fool.  I analyze my dreams and listen to my intuition.  Freak?  Maybe.  Observer?  For sure.  I love people watching.  And where I was in my psyche at this point, this is what I was here to do.  I needed to listen to myself and to observe everything around me.

I don't know if you noticed this or not, but 2010 was a hard year.  Not just for me, but for millions of people.  My situation aside, the stories that I heard of tragedy were astonishing.  Starting with the earthquake in Haiti everything just seemed to go downhill.  Natural disasters, relationship mayhem, job loss, personal tragedy, death, and general unease.  You may have felt it, but didn't have anyone to talk about it with.  You were not alone.  To this day, I still have conversations with people that say (mostly March-June) 2010 was Hell.  In the the shop that I worked in, (staff count of 8,) there was divorce, separation, serious marital disconnection and general romantic pain during that time.  And that is just 7 people that I know.  This does not include the deaths, illnesses, and geographic disasters.

But there were also births, milestones, pregnancies, and inspiration.  There was a lot of joy in 2010.  People that quit their jobs to follow dreams, did just that and succeeded.  Hard births turned out healthy babies and mamas.  Couples that seemed to be on the rocks found each other again.  Cancers that came back went into remission again.

To quote Kahili Gibran,

"Sadness is but a wall between two gardens."

We made it through.  I celebrated my 33rd year of life, in Washington.  I froke out only a little when I realized that I was a barista, unattached and with no children at 33.  When I was young, I thought I would be married, with children, by 21.  Thank God for small favors.  I have a friend that had a stroke at age 21.  She called me one day and said that she had learned to pucker again.  This is what I was doing; learning to pucker again.

The friend that took me in is just as kooky as I am.  She sees the spirits that walk around, she picks up on energy, and she is rooted into this world more than most "normal" people.  I love her.  She never let me get away with any s#@t!  she forced me to deal with my pain.

"The best way to get through something is to live it.  Feel it."

Ef you!  I don't wanna!

But I did.  On her porch, I shook, cried, trembled, laughed, sang, and talked.  She relived the past few years of my life with me, some that she was there for and some that she was not.  I relived her life too.  I was reminded of the fact that when we are off living, others are too.  Lives filled with so much joy and so much pain and a lot of filler in between.

We planted a garden that mostly died, we cooked some really good food, we bounced ideas off of each other, and we listened.  That was the biggest thing.  We just listened.  To each other, to the night, to the animals in the neighborhood, to the kids down the street that only liked one Lady Gaga song, to our family and friends, and to ourselves.  Funny that, listening to yourself.  You say some insightful things, but unless you have a sounding board, most of the time, it just gets lost.

I shucked my first oyster out there.  I was okay with it until I realized that it was my hand that killed the slimy little bugger, and I couldn't even eat it.  I met beautiful people, older and younger, that became my rocks.  I fit right in at work.  I am as sick minded as the rest of them and also as human.   I inhaled pure, salty air.  I relived and healed every day as my co-workers told their stories of loss and love.  I battled with the DMV from 3 different states to get my license back in good standing.  I drank a 4 Loko and smooched with an 18 year old.  I wish I knew his name.  Every Wednesday when I went to work, my co-workers would cue the i-pod to play "Shots" by LMFAO.  That was the joy of my day.  Horrible song, great memories though.  Before I left Naples, I filled out the census card and included myself on it.  I just wanted to be counted.  Here, in this strange little Navy town, I didn't need a census, I was counted.

While there, I formed a new relationship with the ex.  Not a good one per say, but a new one.  One that I was good with sometimes and sometimes not.  He may have felt the same way.  In some exchanges he was apologetic and I missed him so.  Some were more raw.  I hope I'm not alone in saying this, but there is something with an ex.  1st off, the comfort level.  2nd (and in this case) the need to know that you still have it.  We had dirty exchanges and sometimes even ones of real substance. He is an amazing person.  So simple and predictable, but also full of the complexities and passion that I fell in love with him for. 

His mom's cancer came back soon after I moved out there and I felt so helpless.  Now, I'm not "in" his family, and I never really was officially, but I still love his family.  From the moment that I met them, I included them in my prayers. (Yes, I pray.)  So when she got sick again, I felt it.  Every doctors appointment that she went to, every cough his grandfather had, I felt it.  I have been told that I hold onto people too much but, at least for now, I'm okay with that.  I'm Italian, so family (and food) is life.  When I met them, I stuffed them into my pocket to be held dear for all eternity.  I'm not going to let a break up get in the way of love for good people.  His family means the world to me.  And as it is with all of my friends, all become my family.

But I was scared.  It's silly, but I felt like I had deserted her.  Not that I could help her, but just to be with her if she needed anything.  Again, I was angry with him. The drive would have been much easier to go and see her when I lived in the same state.  It wasn't his fault.  I was scared and I looked to the easiest scapegoat.  It wasn't fair of me to do that.  I was scared because it wasn't just her cancer.  It was the health of my parents, the growing up of my niece and nephew, the births of babies, my cat.  I was missing out on their lives and the time difference made it hard to catch people on the phone.  Just to hold any one of them in my arms was what I longed for.  And just to have them hold me in theirs.

My paternal grandparents are buried in Oregon.  Just a few short hours away from where I was staying, an old world life became the American dream.  I won't go into that story here, that is for my dad to write, but I'll tell you about going to "see" the grandparents while I was out there.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HdP3nZMZQbs 

My roomie wanted to do something nice for me.  As said above, we are both woo-woo people.  I 'talk to' my ancestors every night before I go to sleep and I wanted to 'see' my grandparents.  I know that they guide me (Maybe this comes from a childhood in Africa.  Maybe I'm crazy.  Maybe it's just the way it is.)  So we set out, with music in tow (thank God she is as musically driven as I am,) through a landscape that would take your breath away.  And she is so giving; she let me jump out and take pictures whenever, shared stories with me, and drove the whole way so I could stare out of the window.  And I was in a very bad place at this point.  I couldn't tell my ass from my elbow then.  I needed help.

We found the cemetery with little confusion, and I wandered over to the graves.  I knew they weren't 'there' but as soon as I saw the names, I teared up.  I didn't know this at the time, but their wedding date was one that he and I had talked about for ours.  Ouch.  And I felt like I had failed them in some way.  I have no idea how, but that's how I felt.

I fell to my knees (this is cliche, movie-like stuff) and talked to them.  It was a holiday weekend, so there were fresh flowers and flags on most of the graves.  I told them that I missed them and that I was happy to see the old neighborhood.  I have very few memories from my childhood, but the ones from here are fresh and sweet.  The rain started to fall and I looked around the cemetery.  There were a few other families there, but I didn't pay them much mind.  Instead, I lost it.  So here I am kneeling on my grandparents' graves, fists of lush grass in each hand, hair falling in my face, and I'm sobbing!  Tears mixing with rain.  All that was missing was the old man in a trench coat in the distance, watching.  My poor friend came over to see if I needed anything, but I had no words to give.  I was so lost.  This trip was really a test of our friendship.  She had planned for almost every situation, except the one where I was a detached, sobbing, bumbling fool.

But she took my hand and walked with me through it all.  And so did everyone else.  I can't even express to you the gratitude I felt towards everyone around me.  My family and friends, old and new, the man at the store who asked about me to my friend and then made a special point to come and tell me "He's an idiot," the neighborhood animals that would come to greet me every morning (because we fed them) and crawl into my lap, the guy at the convenience store who always had a smile for me.  Truly amazing.

I had the opportunity to go and visit some family a few hours away for the 4th of July.  We lost my cousin to cancer a few years ago and a hole was created never to be filled again in all of us.  My favorite family memories are of being with him and his family for the 4th, so there is no other place in the world that I could be for the holiday.  Sitting there missing him with a heavy sadness,  but also looking around at his wife, kids and grand kids, sharing memories, laughter and beer.

This was why I came here.  Family and food, laughter and love.  And I was finding it.  I was finally healing!

I flew home towards the end of my stay to say goodbye to the only constant in my life (please don't be offended people) for the past 13 years.  My cat got sick and I got the call from my mom telling me that she wasn't well.  My roomie and her family made it happen on short notice and with no questions asked.  I can never repay them for their kindness.  Some would think that this is silly, but she really was the world to me and they saw the terror in my eyes.  Animal owners know what happens when you live with them.  They become part of you.  Your daily life, your considerations, your family.   She had been in on every adventure, every move, every lover and every state for the past 13 years.   I just couldn't stand any more loss at this point.  I was still as fragile as cotton candy and this would surely be the death of me.  The plan was to get her as soon as I could, but I wasn't fast enough.  When she was healthy, she would pee on the clothes of my boyfriends, drink gin out of my glass, and comfort me daily.  Now she had shrunk down to less than 4 pounds, her eyes were sunken into her tiny skull and even her fluffy fur lay dead against her.  She couldn't move, wouldn't eat or drink and just stared at me with glazed over eyes.   I had left her.  I left her with people that she knew and loved, but that was cold comfort to me because I wasn't with her when she got sick.  I left her when she needed me after she had been the ever-comforting stability in my life.

The rage started to rise again in me.  He took away the last five months that I could have had with her.  And when I contacted him in my despair, he wasn't around.  He never, to this day, said anything about it.  Until that day, I had felt as if I had lost my best friend (in him) but from then on, I realized how wrong I was.  He was never my best friend.  I created that job for him, but he wasn't the one who should have been given the title.  And that's okay.  I love him for who he is and for never taking the title even when it was thrown at him.

That was the biggest setback for me. I truly did not think I would bounce back from that.  All of the pain that I had so carefully been chipping away, came back.  The steel walls grew around my lead-filled heart again and I felt that if anyone touched me, I would shatter into millions of sharp and deadly pieces.

But as all things, this passed.  Slowly and painfully, but it passed.  I threw myself back into work, looked to my friends and family once again for help and moved forward.  Maybe this was her way of letting me do what I needed to do.  I tell myself that and I hope it's true.

I went to the lake with friends, visited a lavender farm, went to festivals, read a lot of books, experienced some great live musicians, gazed at the landscape and took a bunch of deep breaths.  I think it worked too.  By the time I packed up to leave, I was at least at 324... not quite 360, but close enough for me!  It was time to find myself on the open road....