hi august.
in a week i leave *60b. after nearly four whole years. the most insane four years.
i brought my moving boxes inside a girl and i'm taking them out a woman. i don't care how melodramatic and cliche it sounds. it's true.
i started school in these walls. they held me when i was getting sober. they introduced me to the most fucking incredible women, a little family. they kept me safe and warm, they soaked up all my tears and insecurity and always felt new and fresh and free. it became home so quickly. even when it took a few months for me to realise it. you know those plays where they say things like "the house is a character in the play. the sea is a character in the play etc."? well this flat is a character in my life. it's been everything.
i've never lived anywhere else in london. and the thought is scary, really intimidating. i've never moved a full life before, really. but i am a woman now. and i know i am, and will. i can.
and deep down, i think i know i have to leave anyway. it had become so very safe. so very comfortable. and deep down i wanted somewhere new, somewhere fresh. i just didn't want it to be the end all together.
endings are sad and hard and i have trouble processing fucking everything and ideally i would have been moving straight out into somewhere else... but that isn't the case. it could have been, if i'd wanted it. but i didn't. the opportunity i had just wasn't the right one for me to take. and i'm okay with that now. my intuition is rarely wrong and i interrogated it to make sure. and i took a leap of faith. i got out.
now i'm sitting in my mostly packed room. still my pictures and posters on the walls, my pinboard photographs, my skincare essentials and books and perfume. and i'm trying to muster up my thankfulness, rather than my fear and sadness. because god, i fucking loved every single moment in this flat.
from balcony bathing to watching the covid announcements to learning how to look after myself to the smell of fresh baked pastries in the morning to those stupid singing lessons on zoom to sharing food with c and watching alone with i and a's fried rice and y's sunday dinners and benidorm with l and the firepit and the fridge spelling out our favourite things and the school days when it all felt like too much and pasta and big mouth in c's bed and the laughter and the silent snowfall and the 40 degree heatwave and christmas trees and tears and hellos and goodbyes.
and deep down i know. i trust the universe. i trust the timing of my life. i know the next place i find will be right for me. i know it will be. i know i will find the next home i need. i know that beautiful things will happen in it and eventually i will be making the same post about that place.
the stress and the fear has stopped me feeling anything but. it's taken over my gratitude. but GOD i am grateful. GOD i am so fucking thank full. sometimes i wonder if i fear being grateful about something that's leaving because it will hurt more, or because i fear over romantacizing and making the end worse. but... every moment i've been grateful.
and reading back over my entires here and in my private journals reminded me that i AM powerful. i AM creative. i will create the next place too. if i could deal with everything i've dealth with here... i can for the next chapter of my life too.
i have a place to stay next wednesday. with my life in a single suitcase (The rest of my life in storage), i will sleep with friends and go into work and if i have found somewhere perfect by the end of my empolyment, then great. and if not? i will go back to my hometown for a month or two. i will live my best life there. i will carry on. and then i'll find the perfect place next.
i told the universe when i got into school that i wouldn't ask for anything else. but i think the universe is okay with me asking for me. i have to trust it. i have to try my best, do the work, and trust in divine timing, what feels right. what i create.
THANKYOU, this special place, this special flatshare in north london. i will remember you for the rest of my fucking life.
