Homesickness. Part 1.

I found this entry in my "It's Gonna Be Okay" journal from 4/1/15: the first day of our first full month in Portland, thousands of miles from home. I've edited it a  teeny bit for sense and flow, because nobody writes pretty journal entries.


Keep yourself busy. Keep your mind off of the distance. Cleaning is good. And reading. Meditating is not. Go for walks. When you're inside you may have the feeling of unreality; as if outside is just your world. As if, if you walked out your front door, you could be there, in that familiar place with familiar buildings and familiar people. This may also be the case in national chain businesses. Any fast food place could be the one there. From inside, the unfamiliar world doesn't exist.  Explore. Being surrounded by new things grounds you, helps you adapt because it's real.
Hang on to the people you know, stay close without using them as a crutch -- they are your connection to home. Don't let them go.
Making new friends will feel impossible. Like trying to pick a movie to watch when nothing looks good enough and you're not sure what you're into anyway, and what if it sucks or you can't focus or they're so horrible you leave traumatized or scarred? Do it anyway.
Try not to overthink others' lack of communication. Imagine everyone else is going through some version of what you are. Refrain from judging or making assumptions.
Spend just enough time on social media to feel connected to those you care about. Refreshing the screen every 90 seconds to see if there's anything new will remind you of your isolation. Don't do it.
Make a routine. An exercise in the mornings. Washing all of the dishes before bed.
Try not to drink much, or smoke too much weed. It increases the chance of dysphoria, and forgetting what's real.
When it all feels too real, too different, spend your free time inside. Watch tv. Stay in bed. Remind yourself that you're still you, and you don't always have to be overwhelmed by the newness. This is not vacation, it's your life. It can be slower, it can be lazy. You can still order Chinese takeout and binge watch Netflix.  But keep the windows open, let the light in, let the real world in a little bit. You still need to remember that you're here. That your life can be normal here.

What It Feels Like to Leave My World Behind

I never question my wanderlust. That sudden need when I glance out of the window and see the sunlight and just need to go. To walk and run and drive and move.

This has led to picnics and sudden hikes, and occasional big trips. But more often than not – lately – jobs, laziness, student loans and chronic depression have put my traveling urges in their place.

So it's not very often that I indulge that desire anymore. Maybe what I'm about to say is really the overdue result of suppressing my internal need to wander for too long.

This weekend, I'm moving across the country.

This is not an exaggeration. My tiny family (my husband-to-be and two dogs) is packing up and driving from North Carolina to Portland.

Across the country.

Across. The. Country.

Before you ask: No.

No, I do not have a job waiting for me in Oregon.

I do not have family there.

My husband does not have a job, nor family, there.

There is no emergency or best friend waiting for us there.

And no, we've never been there.

But this week we are eloping, packing up our dogs, selling our shit, and driving across the country because we can.

Because North Carolina is too small, too southern, too religious, too traditional, too boring for us. Because Portland, Oregon is the food capitol of the world and there are few things we enjoy more than endless varieties of fun, delicious, authentic foods. Because I've been out of college for four years and still work at Old-fucking-Navy, and I'm never going to find a real job here, and his job can go anywhere, so why the hell not. Because even with all the hipsters, neck beards, and plaid, Portland feels like it could be us. Because manifest destiny. Because we don't have kids or commitments or anything to force us to stay here, so why stay? Because why not go on a crazy cross-country trip with two dogs in a tiny marshmallow car and start over completely fresh and new in a place that looks fantastic? Because life is short and the world is big and there is so much to do!

For the last week, the thought creeps up on me in the middle of the night of all the things we'll be leaving behind. It's a hollow pit opening up in my stomach to snap at me from the inside.

We're leaving our family here on the east coast, and 99% of our friends.

We are, in a very real sense, leaving our world behind. We are heading straight towards the unknown like a very hungry, terrified bullet train filled with comic books and puppies and maxed out credit cards.

This could be a huge mistake. Or it could be the best decision of our lives. Or... it could just be a really cool trip. I try to keep my mind on that possibility of complete normalcy. Maybe it will be just like any other move.

But what's pulling me back is the fear.

The long drive, the unpredictable weather, the strangers, the mountains, slippery roads, crazy drivers, medical emergencies. I'm a paranoid person. A trip this big is going to get to me. I'm still in the excited stage right now, but the night before the drive I'm going to be crying into my vacuum-packed pillow while I flip through Facebook photos of my life here.

Packing is hard for a move this big with so little money. I've packed the clothes I want to keep, the important little things, and I'm working hard to sell and give away everything else. But everything else are the things I use every day. Dishes, books, pillows, hair products, shelves. These things are scatter all over our studio, being used or waiting for someone to take. It's a mess and I don't think it's supposed to be like this.

It's somehow harder to pack things you don't want to keep than the things you love the most. Those were first. Favorite clothes, books, photos from the walls, small family heirlooms and both of our diplomas.

I bring home more and more boxes and try to categorize my life based on what I need and what I don't. What is important? What makes me happy? What is replaceable? What would I miss the most?

I told myself I'd spend more time with my family, while they're only an hour away and not three days. But I've only visited once. I'll see them once more to drop off a few things for storage, then again to celebrate my elopement. After that I will be sleeping on blankets on my apartment floor and waiting for the big day.

I've tried to see the friends I'll miss the most, but it's a weird time of year and everything's busy. But everyone promises to visit... as if we were only a day-trip away.

This – here – is my world. I'm leaving it behind. On purpose.

Who does that?

Right; I do.

I kind of have to keep reminding myself of that.

I do this.

I want to, and I am.

I force myself to take deep breathes and fight the urge to crawl into a ball under a pile of blankets. I really need to pack those.

I remind myself that I'm setting out on this journey because I want change. I want to live my simple, plain life somewhere that excites me. I don't want to just live where I live, I want to love where I live.

So I'm doing this. I feel it in my gut and in the tingling of my fingertips.

I feel my throat tighten and my nerves tremble, but I also feel my blood rush and my heart practical leap from my chest. Jack Kerouac said “the road is life.” I'm ready to live.

Beautiful Blogs :: gypsy life

I don't generally read coloborative blogs. Too many people to keep up with.

Gypsy Girls Guide has changed that.

With all kinds of amazing contributers, GGG is an amazing source of inspiration. (and a guaranteed way to begin a long bout of wanderlust)

It's likely that in the near future I'll be posting a lot of stuff about travel and nature and moving around.
Since our vacation I've been desperate to move (literally, not like into a new place....just did that). Consider this the beginning of that series.

With travel journals from women who travel the world, to images of far off places and little adventures closer to home. "Road tunes" to get you going, poetry and fashion to inspire, and guides/information about the world around you near and far, this site is truly an inspirational delight.

There's even food related posts, which there damn well should be. Traveling isn't true without the amazing, unique, and life-changing food you can get in new places.

If you visit (please do) make sure to stop by the Manifesto. It's awesome. I liked it so much I printed it out and used phrases throughout my Bible. I love it.

Reading the posts makes me want to just get up and go somewhere.
Anywhere.
Even if it's just another town, stopping at a strange hole-in-the-wall restaurant for lunch then wandering the streets. A day in the mountains with veggie sandwiches and hummus. A big city hotel for a night, ordering room service with the windows open and the sounds of the street filling the air. A picnic at the park with pesto pasta salad, fruits, and sweet wine in plastic cups.

I miss the freedom of having a car. Dan works so much and I'm so dependent on his car that all I do is sit around here waiting for him to get home, or to pick him up.

I want to pack up the car with lunch and just go. For a few hours or a few days, it doesn't even matter.
I read this blog and I want this bohemian lifestyle.
I want to love my life and know I can just get up and go anywhere (even if that anywhere only really includes how far a tank of gas will get me).

Read it.
Be inspired.
Go.





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