I moved into a new flat and it’s the first time I’m living by myself in about four years. It’s tiny, it’s clean, it’s mine. It doesn’t matter where I moved from, or how, or when. Because all of that time seems to be lumped into one big feeling of love and then one big feeling of failure – and both those feelings hit you hard, and change meaning over time.
Maybe I don’t want to write about those feelings, not here, maybe not even later. Maybe it’s better to save the taste of an experience just for yourself, no matter how adept you are at sharing it and extracting it cathartically. Though extraction has been one of my signature moves.
When I was younger, I was always the first to leave the scene of a heated fight. I would hit an emotional and verbal wall where I felt extremely frustrated by not being able to communicate my point (whether with parents or boyfriends). I would leave dramatically, by slamming the door or walking out of a moving car in the middle of the highway, walking against the traffic so he couldn’t make a U-turn to find me. I suppose I wanted the person to come after me and apologize. Or maybe I didn’t want them to see me cry. And in my head, after walking (running) away, the person would sit down and contemplate how wrong they were.
I don’t do this anymore. I’ve become really good at arguments and fights. The wall is still there and I hit it sometimes but it takes a lot, and once it does, it hurts a lot. So this time, when I extracted myself from my old place, I walked away from a house on fire. It wasn’t all me setting it ablaze, but it had to be left behind in that state. Perhaps that was the only way to ever leave it.
I’ve left two countries and countless loved ones behind, so you’d think it gets easier – it doesn’t. But you become more graceful, more honest, more accepting not only of your own faults but of other people being human, being so scarred and scared and sometimes lost. And you accept them. You let them be. You wish them well. You pack your things, throw out bags and bags of rubbish, and as you slowly release your anxieties and get comfortable again, you keep one suitcase closeby. The next time will come, and you’ll just be better at it.