A song that reminds me that life goes on, and all the while, I am strong:
June 1 marked a full year living here in this apartment. My home. A place I bought furniture for. I renewed my lease.
As long as I don’t move, this will be the first year in six years that I have not moved house at least once. This is my fourth home within Philadelphia, and I’ve not even been here for three years.
Hitting this apex and renewing my lease to stay is a big deal that I sort of swept under the rug. And yet, I’m here now because there is a bit of this I’d like to explore and share.
Last year, just days before my move, I stepped on a broken sidewalk and fractured my ankle. I was on crutches for weeks, transferred to a boot, and then did months of physical therapy. It was such a long, painful process. I was so tremendously lucky to have friends show up to help me move all my furniture and boxes because I literally could not bear weight on my ankle. Thank goodness for them.
This is my second time living alone. Here I am in a smaller place, with a hybrid job that requires that I work and live and socialize all in one space. I have cycled through lots of feelings about this. It can be difficult. Though, I find that at the end of a long day I get to have a dance party or vacuum or play guitar without worrying about anyone else. Just the cats. And I have been asking them to pick up after themselves but so far, no dice.
It has been tough in some ways, and so truly freeing in others. Riding waves of grief and guilt, pain and longing, weeding through desire and loneliness and trying to learn lessons through it all… it has been a perfect slice of life encompassing all its beauty and all its challenges.
I have found that there is so much knowledge and wisdom to be found in solitude. When my relationship ended last April, I was drowning. Being alone was the last thing I wanted. My insecurity and my loneliness fed off each other: an unquenchable fire. Rebuilding my life with myself at the center, and then literally placing myself in a position where I had to rely on myself daily has done more good than harm, even when it hurts. And even when it’s lonely, I’m never that alone.
A lesson I’ve worked so hard on in recent months is asking for and accepting support and help when I need it. It’s a work in progress, but I know I am not an island. And yet…
Alone, I have revisited and amplified the strength and capability I have possessed throughout my life in various capacities and scenarios.
Alone, I built up my own poetry series (with so much help and so much support), I fostered two kittens, ultimately waiting months and months before finally introducing Luna into our little family.
Alone, I got sober, I spoke to myself kindly in the mirror, I wrote a lot of music, I failed, I tried, and I failed again.
Alone, I stayed up until two in the morning and built a dresser because it was time I had a place to put my clothes.
Alone, I cried a lot. I learned a lot. I lived.
There is more to be said about how much I have lived in this last year, but suffice it to say that I am proud of every step. Especially because I can remember the day I arrived (late) to the orthopedist after being rear-ended in my car, and hearing from her that I would be in a boot for 8 to 10 weeks. I cried in her office and she felt terrible. All the pain I felt while I was injured—and everything I missed out on—feels like a distant memory. What I get to take away from that time is how strong I am now, a year later. I’ve joined a baseball team and I’ve started jogging, and I can feel my body and how capable she is. This is my miracle.
Sometimes it can feel uncomfortable to celebrate ourselves, but it is necessary. There are forgotten secrets to be found here. Little treasures. Recognizing where we were, seeing how far we’ve come, and then looking forward to question what is next… it’s beautiful. These are gifts we are granted, just by living.
May you take a moment to recognize your miracles and gifts. May you feel as grateful as I do, today.
With love,
A