THE TRIGGER

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This email explains the cause of my latest depressive episode from which I’m still healing. Some might think, what’s the big deal, and that’s OK. All I can say is that my life’s been on hold for years…now my time had come, at last (yes, purposefully Goonies-esque). When it fell through, I felt my chest cave in like a sinkhole. My heart drained. No more.

 

I understand, Mom. I made the mistake of asking Dad for a loan and when he said no, reiterating that I find something cheaper, when I’d explained twice to him that cheaper means even further away from people which negates the whole purpose of my moving. I don’t know if he’s purposely not “hearing” me to get me to leave him alone, or if he’s the most clueless and careless man, but it affected me in the worst way. No one owes me anything in this world, but he owes me. Irrational falsehood chained to my ankle.

This is the second time since J and W visited that thinking of him ignited an anger I believed had burned out. It was visceral, hand-shaking, violent anger and it disgusted me as I inherited it from him. I’ve worked so hard to find peace, acceptance, empathy, compassion within and for all others…then an online encounter, no less, and I want to mortally hurt myself and lash him with stinging words.

This is where, fortunately, yoga has helped even more than usual. Moving and breathing together, my focus on those two things calms me and I know I’m doing something good for myself (and him, I dare say). And I am moving to that apartment in DC. I’ve learned not to lean on anyone anymore. I’ll find something bearable here and save as much as possible for a year and try again. I’ve ended my friendship with G, too. I’m too embarrassed and feel foolish asking for his help yet again. I’ve not been a good friend to him; he deserves much better. I’ll get my dining room set from him and that’ll be it. The poor man must think he’s just an ATM to me.

The apartment, neighborhood, vibe, convenience–it was and is what I need. The less expensive apartment on the outskirts of DC doesn’t have a w/d in the unit and there isn’t enough closet space for the litter boxes, nor enough within walking distance, hence the price. I’m too old to settle. I want what I know is best for me. I know myself too well. I won’t do laundry enough, I won’t leave the apartment enough, and the kitties’ needs won’t be met.

I dislike living here intensely. I won’t use “hate,” but I will not spend the rest of whatever life I have left in this place. For someone with my needs and limitations this place is anathema. I cannot emphasize enough that I’ve had it with driving everywhere. That alone keeps me inside. Then there’s the fact that there’s no singles scene (sounded less lame in my head), any scene at all, really. It’s families and suburbia. It’s awful.

Worse comes to worse and I will just cash out the pension plans to get there. I’m gonna be 43 and 24 months this year; I have to fit 40 years of living into 20 years so I’m willing to take a chance. It’s not like what I have is going to grow a lot in 20 years. And I want a job(s) where I don’t want/have to retire. It makes me so happy that I don’t want to give it up.

OK. Enough ranting to you, always on my side. I just can’t seem to get it through to people how imperative, life-saving this move was and will be. I need friends, community, easy access to walking/parks/green space/outdoor seating/benches…metro and NO CAR. I don’t want to buy another car after the Subie.

Much love and peace.

 

2 thoughts on “THE TRIGGER

  1. there’s so much in your post that I cannot and won’t comment on. However, I can agree with you that getting rid of your car is a great freedom. I got rid of my car 10 yrs ago, I have never regretted it, and love the new freedoms that I have today. I know the petro-orthodoxy: cars give freedom. I just think that pushbikes, public transport & walking give you even more freedom !

    1. I need to exercise my verbal restraint muscles; the force is strong in you…lol. I can’t wait to sell my beloved car. Never again if I can help it. And it’s just the opposite for me–knowing I have to drive to get where I need to go makes me isolate, that’s how sick of it I am.

Lack of communication is unhealthy.

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