On finally coming back.

I’m Going Through Changes

I’ve been thinking about time a lot lately. Did you know it’s been six months since the last time I updated this blog? That seems like so much time; since November 1st, I’ve left my favorite place I’ve ever lived. Now I’m living with my incredibly generous aunt and uncle with the goal of saving enough for a place of my own. Whether I rent or own, I don’t care but I really feel like that small island is where I belong.

Money Problems

I haven’t been able to save much. In the month since I officially moved in, I caught up on all sorts of bills. But then I had to get my car towed. The repairs cost a couple of hundred dollars to fix so I felt like I was back at square one — financially, at least. I had to disappear from this blog for mainly financial reasons because I couldn’t afford maintaining this blog or the app that helped me post to social media. Sometimes, I couldn’t really afford groceries, either. I was dependent on generous donations from my parents.

But I will say that abject poverty helped me lose a substantial amount of weight. I’ve never felt more confident in my own skin. And people are noticing, which helps build my confidence. Since November 1st, I’ve lost 20 pounds, which brings the total to close to 40 pounds.

Unfortunately, I haven’t lost the weight of rejection. No success on finding a literary agent. I entered and lost a writing competition and did not earn a writing residency. My completed manuscript was sent to Berkley Open House Submissions. I’m not sure when I’ll hear back. As far as new material goes, aside from posting garbage confessional poetry throughout the month of April on Instagram, I’d have to admit I’m not writing as much as I’d like, or even reading as much as I’d like.

All this to say that I’m not really where I thought I would be at this stage of my life.

Time Won’t Give Me Time

I drove my friend to the airport the other day, and the trip brought me within spitting distance of my former residence. I had to drive by and take a peek at the place and it’s unrecognizable. The new owners redid nearly the entire house. I would have said they tore it down and started over if I didn’t know better, if I couldn’t spot the outside entrance to the basement. It looks beautiful and that’s what the house needed, but it makes me wonder about my life. What would it be like if I was still living there?

According to Time magazine in 2023, the average life expectancy for a woman living in the United States was close to 80 years. Not to be morbid or anything, but I’m nearing the halfway point of my life and it’s not what I thought it would be. I’m sure a lot of people feel that way, and I should feel comfort in that thought. But I’m just anxious. I always thought I’d be married with kids in a home with a white picket fence. I’ve published two books, but I’m not writing full-time, which I thought would be materializing in some way by now.

I’ve been asking myself, is this it?

My Summer Goal

This post isn’t fishing for reassurance or validation. It’s just purging thoughts that have been constant companions lately. And I’ve written about this before, how I’ve faced so much change in such a small amount of time. It’s like there’s this lingering resistance to acclimating to what my life is right here, right now.

But I don’t want to give up or give in. Just the other night, I was feeling infinitely youthful riding in the backseat of a car on one of the most beautiful days in recent memory. The windows were rolled down because the air conditioning was busted so the music had to be louder than the wind rushing through. And that wind rushing through made conversation impossible aside from shouted whispers with those sitting near. With my arm out the window riding the waves of the wind, and with my hair whipping around my face and getting stuck in the corners of my lips and in the mascara that made my eyelashes inky and sticky, I was finally out of my head and in the moment.

This summer, I’ll be chasing moments like that.

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