read the words, don’t write them

It’s officially been a week since I wrapped on Saints 2.  And I’m going to level with you, it’s been tough not having them.  There’s been a few times in this last week that I honestly almost just threw all my plans to the wind and started in on Saints at sea.

If you follow me on social media, you’ve kind of been seen everything unfold, and I did post a little last week about what’s been going on.  Last week, I was ready to move home, and I was starting to feel better.  I lost four lbs in a week, which I think is about 75% due to stress.  Even though I’ve still been eating well and sleeping kind of okay, every second of every day has been just full of awfulness.  But then, I decided I was just going to give up on the search for roommates and apartment and move home.  Of course, the universe is a tricky little thing, and likes to mess with us sometimes.

I’ve been listening, loud and clear, to the universe lately, and it’s been shouting at me.  Mostly good things, though.  Every time all the bad shit crashes down around me, the universe decides to throw multiple opportunities at me.  A few weeks ago, I was meeting a potential roommate in a coffee shop, and while that didn’t pan out, you know what did?  I met three new people, all artists of some form, who invited me to come hang out after work at Jaho whenever they were there.  It was wild.

It hasn’t just been that, either.  Every day, it feels like there’s something else calling down to me.  I was upset that things weren’t working out, so I went down to the Empowerment Studio and danced my butt off.  In the middle of child’s pose, a realtor called me.  I decided to give up and move home, and last Friday, I went to see Escape the Fate, Nothing More, and Papa Roach at the State Theatre in Portland, ME.  While I was waiting in the crowd for Escape to come on, I check my email, and there’s a freaking response for an ad I responded to about an apartment in Salem that’s looking for a roommate.  WHAT.  I had no service, and I couldn’t look at the pictures she’d sent or even respond, but okay, universe, I hear you!  I looked forward to that concert all week.  I need to just release and let go and scream it all out.  And I did that.  My sore neck all weekend proves that I did that.  I just let loose the entire night, and was on a high when I was walking out.  I even met this really nice guy to talk to between sets!  When I got home, I looked at the pictures (wow), emailed the girl, and said I’d love to see it the next day if possible.  My parents came with me after my nephew’s birthday party, and it was just incredible.  The girl was amazing.  The apartment was amazing.  Everything seemed perfect.

On Sunday, before my Barefoot meeting, I asked my parents if they wanted to go to Home Goods.  I wanted to finish birthday shopping for Erin, and possibly see if they had any desks or dressers that I could buy for my potential new place.  I was so happy.  I’d had free lobster that day (thank you, Jen!), it was gloomy out (my favorite kind of weather), and I was feeling pretty confident about the yoga photoshoot later.

Suffice to say, I didn’t get the apartment, and I was pretty devastated.  I’d let my hopes skyrocket, and thought maybe I was going to actually figure this out, that maybe getting that email during the night of release was a divine sign, that it was the universe saying, alright you’ve had enough.

I was in public, so I didn’t want to cry even though I really wanted to, and after emotionally purchasing five candles, I did my photoshoot at Barefoot, went home, and continued packing.  It was starting to get late, and I was still angry, so I got into bed with my girls and Siege and Storm, and I just read.

I was so done.  I didn’t want to be put through this anymore.  I didn’t want to have to feel like I was being displaced, or that I didn’t have a home (I know I do, and I’m eternally grateful to my parents for taking me in again).  I just wanted all of it to be over.  I wanted to not be in a room with blank walls and empty bookshelves and a hollow feeling.  I wanted to have my books back around me and my girls feeling safe and characters at my fingertips.  Oh, I wanted to write.  I wanted to write in a kind of way I’ve never felt before.

In Seige and Storm, there’s this moment where the main character wants to get over her heartache by kissing someone, possibly even more.  I’ve read of this situation a lot before–using someone else to ignore your pain.  I’ve never really experienced that before, but Sunday night?  Yeah.  It didn’t help matters that a good portion of Seige and Storm takes place on a ship, too.  Like, hell, I was craving words and Henry and the sea like never before.

Monday and Tuesday were no better.  I finished reading the book, and all I could think about were the adventures Henry and Co. were going to have on the Vast Sea.  I wanted to write so bad that I had to trick myself into not doing it by creating a new Pinterest board for an old children’s idea that I have.

Today is better.  I finished Seige and Storm, and I think I’m going to avoid books at sea for a tiny bit.  Why?  Why not just write Saints at sea?  It’s not ready, and it’s not going to be for a long time, and if I start writing it, it’s going to turn into a mess.  I want to write the Pen boys, and the only reason I’m craving Saints is because it’s still familiar, and everything else in my life is upside down.

So, I’m going to keep taking deep breaths, keep reading instead of writing, and just keep on keeping on.  I’m going to keep moving back toward my boys, and Saturday afternoon, when I’m offically all moved in, I’m going to sit back and just let out a big sigh of relief.  I’ve got this.  And in a few weeks, I’ll be back.

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