I think I've been in Amarillo a little over two weeks now--right? Maybe not. The days and weeks truly blur together. There are days I feel seriously unbalanced because while I feel a sense of peace about being near my family, I feel . . .grief about leaving the Midwest. I do. I miss Cincinnati's NPR every morning when I wake up and during the day because High Plains Public Radio only has enough funding for a few shows and a whole lotta classical music. I miss Graeter's and UDF and Half Price Books and Chipotle and Panera and two good library systems where I could almost always find the book I wanted. I miss going to a church that challenges me to grow. I miss my favorite shopping areas. I miss bike paths and the color green, although not as much as others might. There are so many people I miss. So many. If you're reading this, then you are one of those people.
I am so glad that I moved away from here for so long. Nothing could have been better for me. I proved to myself that I can be liked and respected purely because I am who I am. So many things I enjoy I never would have discovered if I had not lived in OH for so long.
But I can honestly say I don't miss the gray skies--not even for one second. And I don't miss the empty space that grew bigger and bigger inside me being so far from my family. Being here, I wonder sometimes how I stayed away so long. Part of me felt orphaned being so distant.
But the hard part about being here is creating a different space for myself. Truly, it is starting all over, finding the things I loved in OH here in Amarillo again--or at least finding a reasonable substitute. My first goal has been finding a living space of my own, well, one to share with KC. Last week she and I started apartment hunting. The second place we went to, one of the two we found open on Saturday, had a very curt, big-haired blonde woman at the desk. She had experienced too many hours in the tanning bed, it seemed. I didn't want to talk to her after her cold reception, but KC persevered. Part way through our discussion of rooms and rents, I noticed a word on her left wrist: Strength, and I thought instantly of Beth Johnson and her two wrist tattoos, Faith and Hope. By this time the leasing agent had warmed enough to KC and I that I asked her if she really did have a tattoo there, and if there was a story that went with it. She almost gushed at that point, explaining how she had it done to remind her of all the strong women in her life. I couldn't help but admire it. Part of me wants a tat like that now, too--to remind me to be strong. I've done it several times before, and I've gotten better every time. I can do this--make a life here.
Today I had a very interesting opportunity to meet up with an old classmate of mine. It's so funny how one never knows who truly reads one's facebook postings. Apparently old high school classmates of mine did as I exclaimed that I was moving back to Amarillo. So the boy who had been bullied all of my junior high and high school years becomes the first to contact me and ask if I'd be interested in catching up during coffee sometime. True to form, I was nervous as hell about that offer at first. I can think of a thousand times during our school years where I invited him to be in my group or offered him the nice word because no one else would. But, to my shame, I was always embarrassed to do so. I always felt it was a mark of my own low status on the school popularity pole that meant I sometimes didn't have another person to work with. Sometimes I think that was true. But since he was the first person to invite me to do something, I thought I'd better have strength and go. Actually, it was a pleasant meeting. He seems to be in a better place right now, not so beaten down by his own unfair reputation. And yet, part of me has a hard time just rolling with the idea of truly befriending him now as an adult. Isn't that awful??! I always try to see too far down the road and anticipate possibilities that may or may not occur. And can't we ever outgrow who we are in high school? Isn't that what I want people to be able to do for me? Isn't that in part why I stayed away so long? I felt it today, in talking with him, how on the social level, I despised high school. Loathed it. Felt so awkward, insecure, out of place, boxed in . . . you name it. Not really bullied, but not free. Not me. And I have very few memories of high school that bring back untainted happy memories. So this is where the strength idea comes in, why I'm semi-tempted to get another tattoo;) I just want to remind myself that I've done scarier, harder, lonelier things--and I've come out pretty well. What is it about facing your past that makes it so much more frightening than facing the brand new? It must be the feelings you drag along with you.
But I can do this. I can. Watch me :)
