An (im)partial review

This is my forth attempt at writing this entry. Each previous entry I refrained from finishing; or was too moved in a multitude of ways to even impart, in a coherent manner, the last quarter and year of my life. For the lack of a better way to say it:

being in your mid-twenties is fucking hard.

I realize that profanity is the absence of language, but I feel that there are few other words that roll off the page, tongue or anything else like a good FUCK.

The hardest part of this New Phase, is that all that is old must be re-assessed. Much like after purchasing a new fall wardrobe. You have to leaf through the old loved, cherished and much worn sweaters. This always makes me think of the circa 1999 Gap sweaters. Remember those? Remember when it was the hot thing to get the Gap holiday season sweater every year? I had the bright green sparkly one with darker green snow flakes. They came in a variety of colors and I am a little shocked that I did not go for the pink since it resembles my Mattel Barbie like wardrobe. Which currently my closet consists of pink, black, silver, sparkly, or sometimes all of the above at once type ensembles. I am certain I was a drag queen in my previous life.

I digress.

It is time, as the season slowly clicks into fall, and as I move through the New Phase, my New Life and New York that I clean out my closet. As the city pavement finally cools off from the sultry summer heat I find myself still shedding layers from a winter ago. But there are always a few items that I keep around, some special garments that bare more meaning than just fabric; hoping that maybe I will have the perfect place for them in the future.

I celebrated my one year anniversary of living in NYC on the 30th of August. Only a few days before I would complete the first quarter of the New Phase. My friends in Minneapolis seemed rather unimpressed by my feat. Stating " We always knew that you would make it, we had no doubt." I was a little less sure of myself apparently. Glad my support system thinks that I am so tough, I certainly did not feel this way last fall. It seems that in the worst case scenario, I would have returned home to Minnesota at this time last year. And I have total confidence that my little team of supporters would have been able to pep-talk me to death, and I am sure I would be back here in NYC anyway. But perhaps what they could not see, and what I have not been very emotionally explicit about is...

I just completed the most tumultuous year of my life to date. And you know what...

it's really over.

My life in Colorado is over, but I will save one Patagonia fleece from my Colorado life. Just to know that I can go back to the mountains someday and ski. It won't ever feel like it once did. The level of frivolity in that portion of my life is lost, but at least I can say I had it once.

Palo is over. I have had no contact with him since mid-July and have not physically seen him since June. I get an occasional three a.m. text message from him asking, "where u at?"
I hate these messages that he leaves for me. I imagine that he is in some inebriated state of consciousness, lonely, and looking for someone to spend a quick night with. It almost depreciates everything that we once had. When at one point we had so much, and in my closet I will keep all those shear, and hole filled tank tops he loved so much. I used to wear them nearly every night we spent together during the first months of our relationship. He loved their soft texture and their nearly naked appeal. He used to never let me go at night, even when it was ninety degrees. That was the man that I fell in love with, and the man, who for many years, was more crazy about me than me.

My mom is over. I hope that she is over her sickness. I hope that she has the serenity. I hope that she has the courage. I hope that she has the wisdom. It has been a year since I almost lost my mom entirely to alcoholism. Mom, if you read this entry, I never gave up on you, and I can't quit you, as much as I have wanted to walk away from you, I love you so much no matter what kind of hell you have put me through. You gave me all of that hope stuff that I have tucked into all of my passion and my dreams for the future. If I didn't have that I wouldn't be here in my 6 foot by 13 foot bedroom that costs me $1,000.00 a month. My closet bursts with all of the clothing you have afforded me- and my living room is warm and comforting so that I can feel at home after a 14 hour day- and my walls are full of your generosity. The hope that you have given me, that even though people may fall down, and the world may fall apart, it is important to remain hopeful that something somewhere is working in your favor. It usually is... it just might take a while to come around. I love my mom. I hope she is over the sick. She has given me lots and lots. It would have been easier to sit back and hate the world and the hand of cards I have been dealt from time to time without my mom telling me "get that chip off your shoulder, there are people starving somewhere, now let's look at what we can do here, we just have to reassess a little, things are going to work out, you have to believe that things will come together." I will keep all that hope in my closet, forever and ever. I will keep it for a day when she is no longer around to talk me out of my lows.

I want and am working for the left-overs to be over. I pile up all the unwanted garments from my "overs." My little stack of Colorado camping gear. The memories of the dry beautiful climate. The morning mountain runs. The community of nerdy film-goers and aspiring small town artists. The slow fancy free life style of the simple country life is stacked in one corner of my soul. The sound of Palo's laugh. The feeling of his slobbery and overtly affectionate kisses. The way he made me laugh. The way he made me laugh. The way he made me laugh. He comprises a giant heap of memories in my heart. I still catch myself smiling while riding the mo(u)rning train, or during my fifteen minute walk across town about something silly he once did or said. While making love with new love's I still close my eyes in the middle of it all and can remember what it was once felt like to be touched by him. My mom calls this euphoric recall. This is when you remember it being better than it really was. I think she is 80% right but I know that some of it really was spectacular. I am not sure that I can ever really rid my mind or heart of Palo. He is like my favorite little freckle on my arm that is probably going to be deemed cancerous someday and removed. I just don't have the courage to get my freckle removed or looked at cause I love it so much. I just am not ready to let go of it all quite yet. The mound of stuff that I have acquired from my mom, well the good is about even with the bad. A wise friend once told me "you have to love what is loveable about a person and just ignore the rest, cause they are not going to change." I know that all the hard years of craziness that I have endured with my mom have put more lines on my face than any mid-twenty something should have, but I am all the wiser from all the pitfalls and climbs. Therefore I have opted to take the all the bad with the good, and just keep moving forward.

That is what my mom would want me to do...keep moving forward, while pausing at times to try and process all the change and all the "overs." She would want me to put one foot in front of the other, one moment, hour and one day at time.

I got through today. I hope I can get through tomorrow and maybe if I am lucky I can get through this week. I might fall apart, and I might cry, and I might want to kick and scream and that is okay. I just have to keep walking...walking into one moment, one hour, one day, one month, one quarter, one year.


It's really over.