It’s a fragile timeframe, after a separation; it leaves you wondering what parts of yourself you really need to fix but it also leaves you tickled by who can you now focus on becoming.

Letting myself get caught up in social media, I found I was losing touch with myself faster than I was willing to admit to. I was trying so hard to maintain that my life was growing increasingly better because I wanted to believe that was the case.

Instead, honestly, Washington was helping me dig my grave. I spent more days thinking about death than I did about the future. It took me two weeks before I was able to muster up the courage to take my bike into town to have it looked at. Two weeks. Two weeks of looking at Goggle maps for the driving route, store hours, the same driving route again, should I ride the bike there or drive it there, should I ride to the trails from the shop or should I drive? There was too much to consider, too much fear of being judged, too much fear of being in a new town, alone.

Before I did anything new in fact, I spent hours on Google maps, both on my laptop and on my phone, taking screen shots of routes, looking up different ways to travel either by foot or by bike or by car. I would stand around in silent panic for 30 minutes before I was ever able to pack a bag and grab my bike out of the garage to go for a ride.

If anything the days got harder as time carried on; I was not ready to accept being alone. See, it was not being alone that bothered me, it was that I was lonely. There were days that in one hour I was full of life, blissful, followed by my wondering as to why I had not chosen to end my life sooner. Drastic differences.

 

But Washington taught me a great deal about my number one character flaw (as well as many others).

I tend to be a runner, as in, when shit starts to hit the fan I start looking for the quickest, easiest way out. I’m quick to cut loose what does not compliment my lifestyle, whether it’s people, places, or things. I became consumed with finding happiness after experiencing it’s pureness at one point, therefore anything that derailed that journey was considered vile. I’ve never had a problem letting go of people who no longer attribute to my well being-a somewhat dangerous lifestyle choice on my part.

I was ready to give up after my first week in Washington, I was exhausted from what I had been through already before arriving here and the path was not heading upward it seemed. But I stayed.

Staying taught me that it is not a new place or a new start or even new faces that helps heals someone, it’s time. Time spent letting go, forgiving. Time spent with yourself even when you don’t want to be around yourself. It’s waking up and knowing that things could be a lot worse and to simply be grateful for what is. It’s knowing and understanding that this body of mine, this mind of mine, it’s all a work in progress.

Washington drained the life out of me, but I needed to let my body drip dry of the toxic year it had been through.

 

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