the only place i can safely feel unsafe
we're down to the wire here
I’ve lost a lot of function in the last couple weeks, and I believe I am in the throes of either some sort of burnout episode, or mental health crisis - maybe a mix of both.
I am trying, I really am.
I go to to bed every night with much hope for the next day, usually compiling lists of things I can do, places I can go, things I can create, practices I can put in place, or habits I can try to crush. I fall asleep with a delusional sense of productivity, and I wake up paralyzed.
I had a good bare-bones routine going until sometime last week, and now even that has slipped away to somewhere I can no longer see it. My mind has an unmatched ability to compartmentalize, and that sadly includes parts of myself, including my own funtional abilities.
When I get like this (for lack of better phrasing), I feel an overall sense of confusion. I have trouble recalling most memories, and it feels like my entire life’s experience has been replaced with a general understanding. I can remember my name, my birthdate, I know what year it is, and I can (unfortunately) accurately name our currently sitting President. I don’t know much past the basics. I can feel the presence of more, but I can’t reach it. It’s an internal tourture game of unwilling isolation. I worry that it will eventually consume me.
I am struggling to articulate it, so I will try to continue with simple logistics.
I’m moving in a week.
Every time the reality of leaving this house even slightly sets in, I begin to cry, and I don’t know why.
I have felt nothing but a lack of safety in this house, besides perhaps also a lack of stablity. However, I have also spent more time here alone now than I ever spent collectively with a “family,” and it’s become the only place I can safely feel unsafe.
When my ex and I lived here, we were always touring, usually only spending a few weeks at a time in the house before we left again. The times we did spend here were usually traumatic, likely for both of us, but in vastly contrasting manners. I became used to this being the place I would hide away when abandoned, often spending days at a time alone, wondering if I’d wind up in my current situation, yet I never contemplated past that. We’d always fix it in my mind, it was always temporary, I thought that’s what we’d signed up for. It’s taken a lot to force myself into the belief that was never real, because it was for me.
I’m moving to Wicker Park. How… hip? I don’t know. Is Wicker Park even cool anymore? I still feel like I know nothing about this city. Everyone seems to be obsessed with Lakeview? That perplexes me. And don’t even get me started on the concept of a bidding war for a rental.
If my credit were better, I would have bought a small apartment, but I don’t qualify for any sort of mortgage or loan. I wound up renting from a private landlord, having to agree to a strange payment structure of large lump sums ‘til February 2027, when I will begin paying a regular, monthly payment. In all, by the end of the first year’s lease, I will have spent probably the same amount as a down payment on owning a place. This wouldn’t have frightened me a few years ago, but for some reason it does now.
Owning a home did something to my brain I wish I could erase. I’d never considered home ownership being a possibility for myself, but now everything feels like I’m doing the wrong thing, the stupid thing, the financially irresponsible thing. I’ve never been good with money. I’ve always either had a lot of it, or none at all, and now I have to learn to manage it? Insane concept I am not prepared for, but have no choice in the matter.
I’ve been slowly packing the house in sections, tackling small projects daily, most of the time bringing myself to complete at least one. I started doing this a couple months ago, in an effort to make the transition gradual. I think it’s been helping. Yesterday, I realized everything is packed, except for the items I use daily. I could finish it all now in an hour or two if I had to vacate in a rush.
I’m nervous about the logistics of the move. The timing is literally down to the wire. I don’t get keys to my new place until one day before closing on the house, and I have movers scheduled that same day. I already had one moving company cancel on me, and my new movers have me as their 2nd job of the day, in the afternoon. It makes me incredibly nervous, but it’s all I can do. If they don’t show up, or cancel last minute, it will be an absolute disaster. It’s also supposed to rain that day.
Courtney leaves for public access training next Tuesday, and she will be gone for a month. I get to see her once a week while she’s gone, but it will only be for structured training. I’m going to miss her, and I’ve considered cancelling several times, but this was the whole point of getting a dog, so I’m forcing myself to go through with it. This will also lessen the stress of the move, so I’m telling myself it’s for the best.
Once I move into the new place, my next goal is to secure practice space I can make noise, and then try to (dunting) meet people to play with. It’s been a few months since I played with a band, and both times I have done so (post separation/divorce) it hasn’t panned out to a regular thing. This has been my fault, really. Everyone I’ve played with has been kind and enthusiastic, saying we could continue, etc. I don’t know where the disconnect is. I think I want to play with other women around my age, but I’m scared to put myself out there, or maybe I don’t know how. I keep telling myself I’ll figure it out, but again, I really don’t know how. I’ve convinced myself that if I build it, I’ll figure it out. Secure the space, build out the room, and somehow organically stumble upon a drummer and bassist? I don’t know. It’s worth a shot.
I fluxuate between this and going full solo-hyperpop demon. I think it could be healing and cathartic to make something noisy alone, but I fear the idea of scrapping my “darlings,” being the nearly dozen songs I’ve convinced myself need to be molded into an at least 5-song EP, with a full band. I get pessimistic when I lay it out like that, my brain mostly reminding me that no matter what I make, people likely don’t give a flying fuck.
Being alone for my first month living downtown will allow me to have more time to venture out at night. I plan to try to go to shows at least a few times a week during the next month, and dare I say, socialize. I’m hoping this leads to bandmates, but at the very least perhaps a couple friends.
I’m trying to steer clear of dating, but I admit I do have Raya and Hinge once again on my phone. I saw Charlize Theron on Raya yesterday, do you guys think I have a chance? Kidding. I mean, I did swipe right, of course, but we did not match, nor did I expect us to. I was about to say I mostly know her from ‘Kill Bill,’ and then I realized that’s Uma Therman. In that case, I only really remember her from ‘Monster,’ which I went to go see in theaters with my grandfather. He made us leave after the kissing scene at the roller rink, because lesbians. Don’t worry, I bought the DVD behind his back as soon as it came out, and have since seen the movie several times. My grandfather wasn’t necessarily homophobic, by the way, it was selective. Other people could be gay, just not his granddaughter. Both my grandparents also seemed to generally be more accpeting towards gay men, which I think was a result of their desire to be surrounded by fabulousness, without the fuss.
I have several things I’m meant to do today.
One - clean out the third shelf of the panty (I did the top shelf yesterday, and I am doing one per day for a total of four days/four shelves)
Two - mail my monthly income forms for SNAP and Courtney’s test tube for analysis (I did this already before coming home to write this)
Three - try to publish something god dammit (here we are)
Four - Order Courtney’s training supplies (a long leash, a treat pouch, “high value” foods)
Five - Pack two bags of clothes
Six - Buy meat (preferably salmon)
Seven - Two hours towards my teacher training, and if I can swing it at the end of the day, attend an in-person class
Eight - Be asleep before 10pm
As I was sitting here writing, my realtor showed up for a planned visit to raid the garage. I forgot I’d told her she could come over to look through and take anything she might want. That visit reminded me a notary is also coming at 11am for me to sign the closing paperwork. It’s all a mess, I can barely remember appointments less than 24 hours from confirming them.
I guess that’s all.