Anyone who has been reading this blog for the last few weeks has been a spectator to the emotional turmoil that I've been directing towards my ideas of home and belonging. Perhaps not the most fun of times, but for sure they've been interesting. Also absorbing.
Absorbing because I found myself, not for the first time, just sitting around thinking about the many detrimental parts of calling a place home (stoically ignoring the benefits too, but that's for another time). And a new reason to get the fuck away from whatever comforting area you've found yourself in has just occurred to me: being in a new place has come with the added benefit of not dwelling on my old fling that happened last semester as much as I had been doing over the last part of the summer.
I can come up with a few reasons as to why this might be happening. For one thing, I've been extremely busy. The last week has been full of unpacking, buying new furniture, lining up a job, and any number of small menial tasks that take up the day and don't leave a lot of time for reminiscing. For another, there's been quite a lot of drinking to go along with my busy days and, I'm happy to say, I'm very much the happy drunk. I don't call exes, I call my best friends. In the 7 years I've been drinking alcohol I've cried twice. Once was over a boy (I still cringe at how incredibly embarrassing that was) and once was when my Grandpa died (no shame there). Lastly, and I think this is the most prominent reason, getting away from my comfort zone has allowed me to shed off the things I was allowing myself to dwell on and give me a place that feels new. New enough to not want to tarnish it with the thoughts of a person who was recently taking up a huge piece of my headspace.
Comfort for a short time is rejuvenating. Comfort for a long of time is stagnation. That's what was happening, ever so slowly, in Nevada. I was just sitting and torturing myself with events I can't and don't want to change. There is nothing about my situation that I should be complaining about, and moving to a new area is the perfect way to remind myself of that.
And yes, every once and a while I sit and force myself into the what-if game, or just start remembering all the good and bad that's stuck in my head all day. I'm okay with that. I don't want to wipe the past away, I just want to be able to move beyond it, and a way I'm accomplishing that is by physically doing so. Homes are great for safety and comfort but not so much for the type of daring needed to keep the past in the past.
Don't stagnate friends.