I’m sitting in my bed typing this. Finally home. I can feel the pull to wake up and treat the last two weeks like a dream. Like they didn’t really happen. Like I’m not really different. I think this is usually what I do. If I get sad, hurt, disappointed, I just tuck it away and move forward. But there’s so much forgetting that has to be done to live that way. To avoid uncomfortable feelings. So I’m gonna just let myself feel the sad. The sad that it’s over. Because grief is not always a bad thing. Not always a hard thing. Sometimes it’s the only true way to honor something significant.
Alysia and I got on the road around 9am yesterday. We started the day with country music then moved to Nine Inch Nails and Queen. It was nice to have somebody to sing with. I had worried that having someone in the car would shift the dynamics of my trip. Like it wouldn’t be mine anymore. That I would lose my say-so. My therapist would laugh here. Laugh at me fearing that I would have to give it all up to share it. When really the sharing is where the beauty is.
The drive went smoothly, hours seeming to skip by. She napped and I drove. She drove and I fed the car cd’s. We sang, chatted a bit, got lost in our own worlds. It was lovely. We stopped for lunch and pictures with the Oregon Caveman. Alysia getting jarred awake by a towering statue of a caveman and exclaiming ‘that is some road trip ass shit!’ and me giggling.
I spent time thinking about what I want to keep from this trip. Like feeling beautiful in tattered shorts and no make up. Like waking up to write in the morning. Like treating my life like there is adventure to be had everyday. Like truly leaning into the guts of what I want and making it a priority. Like feeling complete while alone.
I’m coming back to people I love and people who love me but I don’t quite have a community. If that makes sense. There is no sense of cohesion and it’s been a source of sadness for me over the past year. I’ve watched how groups of friends knew each other, relied on each other, laughed with one another and I’ve missed it. I’ve wanted so bad to be understood and wrapped in those sorts of friendships that are foundation. I still have great friends. People who show up when called, who check in on me. People whom I love and respect greatly. But they aren’t necessarily woven into my daily life. And there was deep loneliness, wondering if I’d lost the ability to do that. Wondering if anyone wanted that from me. But I’m coming back with faith. Faith that these singular true friendships can build and grow. Faith that community goes beyond consistency. That it seeps in when you aren’t looking. I’m coming back open, willing and in community with myself.
We drove into Oakland yesterday, the temperature dropping about 30 degrees in 30 minutes. The fog had rolled in thick and purple, like a warning or a welcome, we weren’t sure. Everything felt new. Like I’d never been there before. We went up to the White Horse for Le Boy, a local drag show, and each got to see sweet faces we knew. For most of the night Oakland felt like just another stop on my trip. Like it could have been in Idaho, Montana, Washington, etc. I felt outside of it. In a good way. In a way that allowed me to appreciate the beauty of it. In a way that released it from any expectations or labels that I’d once slung at it. And yes I’m talking about the city, and yes I’m talking about a persin, and yes I’m talking about myself.
I wrapped up the night eating my last slice of no-rules-vacation pizza and talking with Lou. We sat in my car, talked tenderly and I felt grateful to know hir. She has been a gift and a challenge for me. A challenge in the way that all growth is. The way it pulls at your heart, shows you new things and asks you to sit with the unknown. A challenge in a way that is actually still just a gift.
I dropped hir off at hir door and drove through the dark San Francisco streets. I watched as hills grew steep and drunk young white girls stumbled. I smelled the difference in the air and noticed the crowds. Noticed all the ways it was different from where I just came from. It was late and still felt like a journey. I found parking right outside my door, climbed the steps and finally came home. Came home to yet another part of me. One that is small but bright. I cozyed into my red sheets among teal walls, took a breath and found sleep.
I woke early today. Eager to write some of this down. Eager to keep this momentum. Eager to start my day like it’s something special. And now it’s time to unload the car so it can be returned. Time to return to my day to day. Time to keep it going. Time to take the next step.
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