I’ve never really had time to think about where I’m going. To take the time to pack my things slowly, clean, and figure out my next move. The last time I transitioned to a new place and a new life, I was homeless and looking at sleeping under a bridge or couch surfing. I had to take the first opportunity that came my way, and I took what I had with me, which was very little. Sloppily thrown into bags and old boxes. I got a grant to get some furniture from a local Goodwill, and that moved into my new place with me. I slowly replaced things from there.
I’m moving on again, but this time, I can pace myself. I have a lot more than what I arrived to this tiny apartment with and I’ve started on my dream of being a published author. I’ve built up from nothing. I feel stable financially, for the time being, where I had nothing to my name before. I got top surgery, have been on testosterone for two years, and have managed to survive this pandemic so far. Fingers crossed.
This new house promises a lot of things. Mostly because my whimsical and spiritual self likes to think the timing was a sign. I was ready to give up on everything because my life had gotten so bad here. I am surrounded by alcoholics, parties on an almost daily basis, and live next to an abuser as a reminder of my own past. And, ironically, he reminds me exactly of my abuser. My mental health got so bad I had a relapse with PTSD, and this time around, it was a monster. I can’t even begin to describe the nightmare I was living in. It was reminiscent of the time I lived back at home on my family’s hobby farm, locked away in my bedroom in fear of who I lived with. I’d nearly lost my life to my own hand three times.
So it came to my surprise that my wishes were finally answered. I’d done the rituals. Put good energy into the ether. Asked for help from my chosen pantheon. I retained resilience through hellish months when I just wanted to die. The other day when my case manager delivered my medication, I finally got a break in the madness. A house had opened up and because I’d had such problems here and requested to move, they’d put it aside for me to look at.
I don’t know when I’ll be moving within the next week — if possible — but I’ve started packing. There’s a lot I don’t know and I know I’m rushing into things because I’m so desperate for a new life. I won’t even have help other than transportation, so I’ll have to figure out how to move all of this myself. I don’t even know if there’s going to be a deposit I can afford, and I know nothing about the program I’ll be on to help with the electric bill. I may be broke as hell for a long time.
But if I’ve learned anything in my 32 years, it’s that when a new door opens, don’t question it. Take it. Because every time I’ve been brave and just took the plunge, something good has happened. And if my tarot cards and oracle cards have told me anything, it’s that to experience change and get a better life, you have to dive in head first. Things will work out somehow.
The house is two floors broken into two apartments. I get the bottom floor while my neighbor is above me, but it’s nestled in a quiet town on a back road away from everything. Downtown is just a block away and on a bus line, and there is a beautiful library I loved as a child, pizza shops, my favorite antique store I could practically live in, and a comic book store. It’s an old town and hasn’t changed since it was built, which is exactly what I love. I love the historical, timeless feeling of it, and it’s familiar. It feels safe.
My new home will be much larger than any I’ve lived in. The wooden floors have just been redone and while the fireplace isn’t operable, it’s a nice decoration and the mantle is a good place for my altar. In the bedroom, the walk-in closet is big enough to be an office. And my cats will have so much room to run and just be cats.
A part of me feels this is too good to be true. I’m used to something bad always happening, and my health has always taken a turn for the worse any time I move. This time, however, feels different. I know more now than I did before, and I’m further along in my recovery. I haven’t learned how to allow myself to be happy or excited without fear, but I’m going to try. In the end, if something bad is going to happen, it’s going to happen rather I let myself be happy or not, so being happy right now is my lifeline.
Maybe this will lead to bigger and better things.
©2020 Shane Blackheart