So, there must be something about me, about my body, about my mind, about my entire makeup that screams “Hi, I’m an emotional wreck! Come kick me!” And then usually, something does.
Until tonight. Tonight I went about my normal routine of checking my email, checking facebook, things along those lines, when I thought, hey… what if INZ isn’t going to send me an email alert, what if they’ll just post it on their website for me to view? So, I followed the link in my email and…
Let’s just say that the last week has been rough for me. For whatever reason, I’ve been thinking about my friend C a lot. C died four years ago, the last day of May from complications due to Lupus. It had been a rough few years, with his doctors and meds and trying to comply and he had finally started to get everything back on track, back on schedule, he was doing everything that the doctors told him to do.
But they hadn’t quite figured out how to regulate his blood pressure. So one night, it spiked, went through the roof, and C ended up in a coma. It took about four days, four days of agony for his friends and I can’t imagine what it was like for his family, but it was hell for me. I was stuck in Maine, no money to travel, no way to get time off from work and no way to get to him. Only a few months earlier the same thing had happened with my grandmother. But I got to talk to C, I got to tell him that I loved him, and my friend G told me that the monitor moved when he heard my voice.
I, to this day, don’t know if G was lying to help me, or if he was telling me the truth, but I don’t care to find out. C was dead, his heart gave up, stopped working, the day before his parents had decided that they would let nature take it’s course. They had said five days, and C left us in four.
I was devastated. Heartbroken doesn’t even begin to cover the emotions that I felt when I lost him. C was a little brother to me, one that I looked out for, cared about, loved immensely. He was a best friend and a fantastic companion, and he was just gone. Just gone. Work gave me the day off and I immediately went to walmart and bought a Korn greatest Hits CD. Cause C would have loved that.
So, I’ve taken a while to recover from this. A long while. It still hurts, to this day, the thought and memory of losing him. Not as badly as it did. I can sit here and type it up without bursting into tears. I can talk about it with my mom without completely losing my mind and sobbing uncontrollably for a few minutes. Which I couldn’t do at all a few years ago. After C died, I shut down. I cut off all contact with most people that I knew online, I couldn’t be reminded of him. I just couldn’t cope, couldn’t handle it.
And it’s been a long time coming, my breaking out of that shell, that self-inflicted cocoon that I put myself in. There are several factors into why I’m such a scaredy cat over certain things. First, losing C hurt me so deeply that the thought of letting somebody that close again, letting somebody into my life again and letting them so close to my heart, terrified me. Completely and totally terrified me. I didn’t want friends, I didn’t want anybody close. I wanted to keep myself safe.
I shut people out of my life for so long, and they were good people too. I just couldn’t imagine the pain I would feel from losing them, as I would inevitably do.
Second, came later, when money got tighter and tighter. I didn’t want to leave the house, because leaving the house meant spending money. So I stayed inside, I became something of a hermit, perhaps a recluse. But the other side of that was that if I went outside and drove my car anywhere, I risked the chance of getting arrested. For a long time, I didn’t have the money to afford registering my car, or getting it inspected, or getting new tires on it so it would pass inspection. So I didn’t drive. I took taxis to work. And I stayed home. I ate the cheapest food and diet that I could and I did nothing with myself.
Finally, the bottom hit me with a rock. Lots of them actually. And I began to face my life, and the consequences of it, and I ran home with my tail between my legs. That was a year ago last month. And ever since then, life has been on the upswing. I’ve finished my college degree. I’ve figured out that WalMart is not where I want to be employed for the rest of my life, I’m better than that.
And I’ve met a man. A man, not a boy, not a frog, not a toad or anything else. A man. He treats me like a princess, he values my company, and he loves me for me. He doesn’t need me in his life, but he wants me in his life. He looks at me and sees a beautiful woman, and the more confident I get, the more beautiful I appear. And he loves me. The most important thing, the most amazing thing is that he loves me.
And so, I work on changing my life around. I work on putting the past into the past, I work on remembering C, but not letting the remembering completely undo me. I work on getting myself to the point where I can look at myself in the mirror and tell myself that I’m beautiful. And believe it. And I work on getting myself to put one step in front of the other so that I can start on my next big adventure.
I may be 29, but my life is just beginning.
So, I applied for a Working Holiday Visa for New Zealand. And while checking on it today, I see that it’s been approved. So I let that information sink in over a nice dinner or cream of tomato soup and tuna salad sandwiches. And then, after dinner, I sit down and look at airline flights. And I scour the web, and my father scours the web with me (dad’s good at these things..). And there we go. The perfect pair of flights. I leave from Baltimore Airport at just after Noon on 9 February and fly into Phoenix, change planes, and then onwards to Los Angeles. I then have four and a half hours in LA to get my bags from baggage claim, and then go back through security to get onto my flight that leaves from LA at 10pm. I will fly in the air above the Pacific Ocean for thirteen hours and I will land in Auckland at around 8am. Hoping that all things go well for me in Customs, I will be a free woman in New Zealand come about 9 or 930am.
So while my week started out kinda shitty, with bad memories and feelings that I just couldn’t shake, it had now hit a high point, a feeling that I never thought I could hit. I am moving my life forward. One step at a time. One moment at a time.
I am strong. I am beautiful. I am loved. I am moving to New Zealand.