Back home

The drive back to Lexington today felt long; a lack of sleep last night did not help. In the car, I listened to Eckhart Tolle speak about the power of now. All we really have is in the moment, I heard him say. And I tried to practice keeping my thoughts just there, nowhere else. It’s hard not to think of the past or the future when your plans have toppled over, the rug has been pulled from under your feet and you’re angry and deeply hurt and you aren’t sure which end is up. Demolished plans make for a damaged heart. It may take a while, but between me, my therapist, my friends and family and a whole load of books, I’ll get there. I will get better.

I cried when I got back into the house. Part of it was fatigue; it takes a butt load of brainpower to stay in the moment, the now. As I brought in my things, the place really didn’t feel like home. I really needed to feel comfort, stability. Seems like I haven’t been home in quite a long while. And where exactly was (is) home? Last time I felt it, I think it was back in Seattle. The apartment I shared with my husband. Last night I had a very good talk with a friend in Seattle as I sat in my car in the parking lot of a K Mart in Asheville. I’d just gone to buy some Benadryl (for sleep) when she called. This friend had some very good points about home. These aren’t her exact words but she said I needed to land somewhere, needed a place where I could stay for a while, a place to call my own. Home. And she is right. I’ve been moving around for the past seven months. The start of some roots might be nice. And before the end of the summer, I should have just what I need. In Dallas. One other piece of advice this friend gave me: do not get a job as a nurse when you move to Dallas. Too stressful she said. I’ve got lots to think about.

As I thought more about home, I was reminded of its importance. I know I’ve written about this before. A place where I can feel comfortable, and at ease. A place where things feel stable. The start of new roots (yes, I’m repeating myself). My personal sanctuary, a source of my strength. I’m glad my friend and I had that discussion last night.

It was also a blessing to talk to my daughter and another friend from Seattle once I arrived here in the late afternoon. We talked about plans, apartments, medication. A job. My husband and therapists and doctors. Values. Other things. I was terribly thankful for the time they each gave me; it helped with the transition back to my place. More than they could know. And I’ll be trashing that Benadryl as one friend informed me: long term use of that medication has been associated with Alzheimers disease.

It’s the end of the month. As I think back on what all I’ve learned, it feels like too much to write. I’d like to save those thoughts for tomorrow or maybe for the end of April. Tonight I just want to go to bed and feel thankful for friends and conversations.

This has not been one of my better days today. I had lunch at a nice little place and then spent the afternoon at the River Arts District. It’s an area down by the river where old warehouses have been turned into artist shops. There are paintings, pottery, jewelry and more. It was nice and sunny outside, which made for good walking; I left empty handed.

There was an email today that was quite upsetting. Or was it really not that, just something else all askew? It wasn’t that my husband was not nice when we communicated, because he was. Sometimes it feels like I’m going backwards, not forwards. Is that possible? My brain often feels it’s going ninety to nothing; I’m not sure how to put on the brakes. Whatever I’m doing is really not working so well. But I did get to speak with both my kids and my sister and a friend from Seattle. Thank the Lord for them!

Here’s to a better day tomorrow and a prayer that I’ll be blessed with sleep tonight. Heading back to Lexington tomorrow.

Day two in Asheville

Last night I was too tired to write. The airbnb was quite pretty. I didn’t want to go without posting some pics.

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I started my day (March 29) in downtown Asheville at Malaprops, a gorgeous bookstore. This was after being handed a chunk of fresh ginger for my daily nausea from Krys at the Airbnb. Such good people, she and her husband, Steve. A section on writers right as I entered the store. Natalie Goldberg, followed by poet, philosopher and spiritual writer, Mark Nepo. Can’t wait to immerse myself in them both. And the scenery here, gorgeous.

Lunch a couple blocks over at Early Girl Eatery, a stack of fried green tomatoes between layers of goat cheese. All this, on top of some grits. Tomato salsa on the side.IMG_0881

Street musicians on every corner, looking to those who can spare a dollar or dime. To toss into their empty instrument cases, maybe stay a while.

The people on the street- tourists, that’s what it looks like mostly. But how can I really know?

Holy crap, I did get a little lost heading back to my car. I knew there was a store nearby called dog something; I just couldn’t remember it was called Dog Door. But I made it! Whew!

In the afternoon, check-in at the new Airbnb.This one’s on the other side of town. Sun coming through the windows, a room upstairs in the main house. Privacy greatly reduced; that’s fine.

I spent a few hours at French Broad River Park. My husband and I scoped out this place right around a year ago. My stomach has been upset since around 11:30 am; I don’t think the trip to the park added to that too much. There’s a dog park there and we did stand at the fence, spoke to a couple that’d chosen Asheville as a place to retire. I walked right past that exact same spot. It got to me, but only a little. A couple of conversations with my sister, another with my daughter as I sat in the park’s parking lot. They helped so very much.


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I imagined myself as someone like Elizabeth Gilbert or Anne Lamott. A published author who walked her dog in a public park. And I wondered how it would feel to just live out a regular day. One without nausea and longing, and fear, all those other things. As hard as I tried, pretending to be someone else just didn’t work.

Tonight I drove back to town. Dinner at The Barleycorn. Mac and cheese, topped with pulled pork, crispy fried onions. I even tried a glass of wine. Not sure that was the best of ideas. Left the glass half full.

An email from my husband this morning. He’d sent one yesterday, said he thought about me often; he’d had a question about the MFA, where I plan to live. Seemed ok to tell him of my acceptance. I let him know last night. The rest, about that damn storage unit and the fact my insurance is done at the end of June. Think I need a few days before I respond.

Hope to get to bed early tonight. Get the post and the photos done. Then one more day in Asheville before the drive back to Lexington.