Maybe one day the storms will stop rolling in...

Just when I think I've said all there is to say there is something else going through my head. It feels like a volcano ready to erupt at any point. Right now it's just sitting as a peaceful but active volcano, sure the scientists are talking about how many something will happen, but they don't know that it's just brooding, waiting for the last straw before it all just explodes outs my ears and the words come flowing out of my mouth like lava unable to stop until they've caused ultimate destruction. Yeah that's where my brain feels today. I'm spending so much time trying to eat my words lately thinking that maybe that will stop them from spewing everywhere but I should just accept that it's going to happen.

I've been struggling and there is a part of me that just feels empty. I can't explain it. Like for someone that often has a lot to say and has a fairly easy time at putting words to paper and having it make sense I just can't seem to lately. There is this nausea that just doesn't seem to go away. I guess this isn't too far after the part of the year that this usually happens. Maybe that's it. My internal body clock going off reminding me of some of the most terrifying times of my life. I didn't even realize until just now that it's that time of year again.

I really wish my body would stop doing this. It's really hard to move on in your life when every spring a pit hits your stomach like a sack of bricks. This feeling like you're unlovable and like nothing will ever work out as it is meant to. Like the only people you'll ever bring into your life are the ones that want to use you up, abuse you, or keep you as a reserve. Regardless at the end they always throw you to the curb on trash day, tattered and mucked up. And all I can do is try to pick myself back up, crushed and scared and try to wash off the most recent scars.

Though I am grateful that last spring brought no blood or bruises it still brought scars on my psyche and my soul that I didn't really realize were there until lately. There's this level of insecurity and paranoia that as a strong, independent, woman I have prided myself on not having, but low-and-behold they exist now. A jealousy and need for commitment that I can't understand. To go from a place where any thought of being tied down made me physically ill to feeling the same being in a place of unknowing is just strange.

It's crazy to think that in the last eight years my body has been taken advantage of, brutalized, and battered and has time and time again risen above and come out stronger with only small scars to remind me of what I have overcome. Yet, in the last eight years I have slowly allowed my spaces, actions and emotions be more controlled by the actions of three individuals, knowing full well that seeing any of them would shoot concrete through my veins causing me to freeze, turn a pale shade of gray, and lose all confidence and words that once spun through my mind.

It's crazy to think that after eight years I still won't drive through certain neighborhoods of my home town because my stomach seizes and my heart tightens at just the thought of being near that place. That six years later I still won't live in a place for longer than a year with the concern that you'll appear at my door like you once did. Or that you'll once again lock me away from everyone I know and love because they're interfering with your plans. That a year later I still pause when making plans to make sure they aren't going to frustrate you or that they aren't with people you wouldn't want me around. It's crazy to think that so much of my life has been controlled by the actions of a few.

For a third of my life spring has been a hard time, it's signified violation, a lack of safety, and a lack of agency. I've been sitting here the last few weeks, trying to open myself up to someone new, unable to figure out why moments have made me physically ill, and why others have caused me sheer panic. I had noticed the knots in my stomach and the unusual edginess to my step but haven't been able to put my finger on what has been going on.

At what point does your heart stop beating out of your chest at the mention of their names or at the glimpse of someone that looks like them? At what point does home feel safe? At what point does being held by someone not immediately go down in a ball of flames in your head? At what point does it get easier? At what point does the slight threatening tone in someones voice not make you have a panic attack? At what point do you quit feeling like you have to protect yourself in every second? Is there a point?

I still remember every moment. I wish I could forget. I wish I could forget all of it. Maybe then it would be easier to connect to someone without internally flinching every time they move quickly. Maybe then I'd be able to sleep through the night when someone was asleep next to me. Maybe then I'd be able to look at myself and my body and see it as something worth loving. Maybe then I'd be able to trust when others told me I was beautiful, or that I was worth it, or that they wanted to be with me, instead of hearing that they want something or that it's just another method of control. Maybe one day... until the spring is when the storms will roll in.

Home is where the heart is...

Nothing has been more obvious since coming back to Portland than home is where the heart is. I've been struggling with realizing that a) once again I have to leave the only place that has ever filled up my soul and made me feel energized in this way and b) the next time I come back to visit a great number of the people that have made it home will be gone. 

It's weird to think that though I grew up in Portland it wasn't always home in this way. It has always been where my family was and where my homebase was but home and homebase are different in my mind. Homebase is where you land at the end of the day whereas home is where you go to get filled up when you are empty and need to be surrounded in love and confirmations. My friends have made Portland that place. 

I have some of the best friends in the world. There is no doubt about that. My best friend has become more and more my rock and my conscience since I have moved and thinking of her not being in Portland when I come back in July is heart-wrenching. The ginger twins are separating and going to be in two different places. People are graduating and moving on, moving to different places and taking their lives to the next level. 

I guess that's the same thing I did except it's harder when you do it first cause then you go from knowing what it's like to go back to them to having to acknowledge that they won't be here when I come home anymore. It's put me in a weird place. 

I just successfully finished my first year of grad school. Woohoo? It's more like I have successfully completed my first year of grad school for the second time. Had I stayed at Portland State I would be 5 weeks away from graduation but instead I am a few short weeks away from starting summer semester and starting my second year at SIUE. It's crazy to think that this year is over and though has been a quick year it has also been the longest year of my life. 

I've talked about a few times about how this year has been long but I've been reflecting on it a lot lately. In the last 12 months I have accepted a postion and committed to moving to Southern Illinois, I've lost the first true love of my life and had my heart obliterated in the process, forgot how to love and trust others, moved to a place that I'd never been with no support near by (or at least that's what it felt like then), found a new family in my coworkers, got caught in the middle of drama, struggled to keep my own demons and addictions in check at moments, struggled with my identity, opened my heart up and had it thrown back in my face, stepped outside of my comfort zone, made new friends, cherished old friendships, rose above what was expected of me, and finished my first year with only 1 B (a huge accomplishment for a kid that barely made it through undergrad). 

This has been a year that challenged me professionally in ways that I could have never imagined. It taught me who my allies were both within my region, and my organization, but also what limitations really looked like and how much of that was created by me.

This year has challenged me personally in ways that I don't have words for. My mom has always been my constant and I forgot how difficult it was for me to maintain stability in my own life without her. The only other time that had happened was when I removed her from my life during the dark years. This hasn't been a type of growing up I have wanted and without the chosen family of a few boys in Illinois I probably wouldn't be handling this challenge well. 

So here I am, watching as my best friends, my chosen family in Portland, start talking about graduation and leaving Portland and I am starting to feel like a nomad. If home is where the heart is, and my heart is with them, and they are what makes this home, where does my home go if they are all gone? How does that impact the challenges? Is this just another challenge to face? 

When all you want is for things to go back to the way they were what does this do? I don't know what to think about this and I am in a constant place, more this trip than any other trip to Portland, where I don't want to go back to SoIll. I just want to stay here, even if only until after graduation, just so that I can soak up all the time with my loves that I can get.... I'm feeling really strained right now... hmmmm.