Coming Home?

It's weird coming back to the mainland. Back to this space. A familiar place. Whenever I cross the water it feels as though I am coming home. Returning to my old life.

Here are my loved ones. My friends. Always someone with open arms and open doors. There is laughter and memories, a bed and food. Someone to say they miss me.

I never long for the city, it's too fast and mean for me. But I dream of never having to excuse myself, explain my words, or be reasonable. Everything is as it is. And I miss just being who I am in the presence of great people, the ones I love.

And still I miss my boys and the island, the home in the bay and my bed.

Is it possible to have two homes? Or more?

The Tears Cometh - Part 2

It's a tough thing saying goodbye. To friends. To memories. To the person you once were. And to a home.

Once upon a time, I was lost. There are blogs to prove how far astray I deviated from the girl I was supposed to be. Those posts will show an emotional battle worthy of the history books. Still, I worked through my issues here - most of them. Some of my issues aren't meant to be worked through. Really, they're character flaws and part of who I am as a person. Still, this is where I battled my demons publicly. Not because I think anyone wants to read about the skeletons dancing out of my closet when I accidentally leave it open, but because it is therapeutic for me to write out the troubles that plague my mind. Catalogue. File. Close the drawer.

The funny part about the things I wrote through 2012 and 2013 is that are were written in my big girl home. The home I moved into thinking I would never date anyone again. The place I bought when I was scared and sad and the most broken I've ever been. It's the place I hunkered down and confronted my part in the demise of one of the most important relationships I've ever had, or ever will have. Even more, it's the home I lose forty-seven pounds in. It's where I stopped wading through the darkness and found the light. And I fell into my stride again.

Many nights were passed writing and dreaming and laughing - and maybe even crying in this place.

So, as I stood in my living room today, staring at the emptiness, I too felt empty. The tears came. Uncontrolled and perhaps even a bit irrational. But they are important. They are a goodbye. A goodbye to what was said and done there. To the chapter I never thought I'd have to start. The part of the book that hurt at first, but turned into such a pivotal section of my life. Honestly, I doubted it would ever end. In the beginning, I thought I would be there forever. But forever is a lengthy amount of time. And it did end. It's over. And the new chapter has started.

And as I took one last pee on the toilet I once owned, I let go. I didn't have to be strong or pretend.I don't have to smile. Today, I can be sad. It's okay. Because this was my home. It is important. And it can be hard saying goodbye.

As I finally breathe out, I realize I have beautiful people in my life. Friends who are generous and caring. Family who love me, no matter how weird my decisions seem. Beautiful boys to keep me warm at night. And the memories I created in my big girl home.