Updates on Moving, Why I’ll Be Scarce for a Bit Longer

Oh, my darlings, this is hard.

I’ve had to sit myself down and have some stern talks about reality lately. Like, the fact we can’t live alone anymore isn’t a personal failure – almost no one in the Seattle area working the kinds of job I worked can afford housing by themselves anymore, hence a huge explosion in the roommate market. Even if I’d stayed with Ye Olde Day Jobe, I’d have had to get a roommie. But it’s hard. I’ve been independent for so long that it feels like major fail to be crawling into a home with other people.

And I feel like a bad kitty mommy, moving my ancient beastie in with another cat and a dog, which she’ll thoroughly hate. She won’t have the run of the house anymore. I feel terrible, uprooting her life so late in the game. But there was no way we could’ve foreseen our lease not being renewed. The complex had been perfectly happy with keeping us forever until they decided it was time to remodel so they could get more money out of some poor mook.

Happily, S came by today, met the wee beastie, and wants her to have a good life, so he’s completely down with getting her an outside pen to play in. We’ll make a corner of the yard hers, and she’ll get her quality outside time still. She’ll just have to put up with BooBoo meowing at her wanting a playdate. I’m hoping that, since she thrives on outrage, she’ll end up living for nearly ever because of this.

I’m doing okay getting rid of my books. But I melted down tonight going through old notebooks, deciding whether or not to keep them. I already got rid of so much of my fiction writing stuff. But these are different, for some reason. These are probably full of useless and outdated research, too, but getting rid of any of them feels like walking away from fiction forever. And since my stories were such a part of my identity for so long, it feels like coring out my personality. This isn’t a sensible emotion, mind you, as I still have all my digital records and drafts, and shall be set to go if I’m ready to return to my story worlds in a few years. I’m trying to shoot for age 42. That gives me time to finish a bunch of the nonfiction books I’m working on, and it’s a great symbolic number.

But who knows where I’ll be by then?

(If B has anything to say about it, my arse will be planted in front of a computer writing those fiction novels. He really wants me to get ’em written.)

B’s been great, letting me have my moments of doubt and despair without ever accepting that things will go badly. We’re even talking about living together soon. S is completely open to me leaving whenever necessary. All we have to do now is determine how it’s going to happen.

Will we thaw out his brothers and end up living with them? That’s going to take some time – alas, his younger brother hasn’t talked to me much, and has been researching feminists, and seems to think I’m one of the near-mythical feminists who advocate wholesale castration and such. So I have to find a time to sit him down, explain intersectional feminism, and then we can get on with enjoying each other’s very opinionated company, because we are far more similar than he realizes.

There’s also a possibility we’ll end up in Montana for a bit, living with B’s parents. B wants to enjoy as much time with them as he can before their health declines further. And his mom has already hinted that she wants him to move back there. If we hit it off when we visit, then it’s possible I’ll be an inland girl again for a while. Then we may be moving to Hawaii with his mom, who’s expressed interest in living somewhere tropical, and I am all for that. Think of the volcanoes I could bring you!

If you’re wondering why B and I don’t just strike out on our own, it’s because he’s that tight with his family. And I have no intention of prying them apart.

And who knows, I could end up enjoying the little artists’ colony S, N, and I have started that we end up living apart for years anyway. I have no idea at this point.

Thing is, I don’t handle uncertainty too well these days, so it’s been really really hard. My depression has been kicking in at random, kicking me in the teeth and reducing me to splinters. And just when I get up from that, dear Aunty Flow comes by to turn my uterus into a horror show. She stands over me with her steel-toed, steel-cleated boot poised over my lady bits, and growls, “Don’t even think about getting out of bed, bitch.”

Yeah, Aunty Flow’s definitely not a feminist, and she’s definitely in to the gendered slurs.

Now I’m past that, and anxiety and depression have borrowed Aunty’s boots, and I don’t know how I’m going to get through this, except B’s going to be there, and so is S, and so are you, and we’ll find a way to deal. But I can’t write right now. I’ve been trying to go back and get all the swag in order for you donors who wanted it, but I’m behind on everything. It’ll come, I promise.

And once I get settled in, once I don’t have uncertainty feeding all my neuroses, then I’ll be right back to writing. Lemme tell ya, my darlings, I have a shit-ton of great stuff for you! Once I am done grieving the life I had and have worked out the kinks in the new one and can enjoy it, then we are going to have a fucking fantastic summer. As much as I didn’t want this move, as hard as it is, I think it will ultimately prove to have been a great thing. Routine is nice, but change can do a writer good.

I’ll see you in the next chapter, my darlings. Thanks for being there with us, and making the transition possible! If it wasn’t for you, I don’t even know if I could’ve coped. Because of you, I know I can do this thing, and have a hella good life going forward.

Thank you.

And feel free to help me work on B’s mom about that whole live-in-Hawaii-and-blog-live-volcanoes thing.

Image shows a tuxedo kitten on a table, sitting on its hind legs with its forepaws clapped together. Caption says, "Yess, yess, evil plan wurking."

Updates on Moving, Why I’ll Be Scarce for a Bit Longer

10 thoughts on “Updates on Moving, Why I’ll Be Scarce for a Bit Longer

  1. 1

    I have been cleaning out my garage in preparation for moving to a smaller house. I came across a bunch of the fiction I wrote many many years ago (like 30-40 years ago). Some of it was pretty good, but it was just a scene here and a scene there. I’ve always had trouble with the discipline needed to write a complete story. But as you said, that stuff was once an important part of my life and simply tossing it seemed wrong. I eventually did toss most of it. Because that part of my life is over and I want to concentrate on the life I have now. Which does include some writing, just not those stories.

    I hope your fur-bearing partner adapts well to the new digs. They can surprise you sometimes. Remember that pet animals keep each other company even if they don’t like each other.

    Anyway, get done what you need to do and we’ll be here waiting until you can turn to entertaining and educating us again. Love you, sweetheart.

  2. rq

    I’ve been going over the old-fiction debate with myself, too. Had to pack up all my notebooks while in Canada in the summer, and it was… odd. Though there’s one story that I still want to write / finish writing, I just don’t have the time to sit down and do it – and to be honest, I’m a little scard to: what if it ends up royally sucking?
    Anyway enough about me.

    I’m glad you have a place to go and it really sounds like it will be a good place for you and Misha, even if it is only for the short-term.
    I’m so glad you have B for support and Misha for cuddles. I hope a mutually pleasing arrangement can be found, and if that involves you moving to Hawaii, then please know that I will be insanely jealous – not so much for the tropical heat (winter person) but for the volcanoes (I will always have Iceland?). (Also good luck educating the brother.)
    Please also know that I do not believe you are a failure, not ever, because you’re far too smart and awesome and educational to be that. You have done far more to educate me and to maintain my sanity than you could ever know, and I count that a pretty big win on your behalf. At the same time, I know that sometimes the most difficult battles we have are with ourselves, so you go and put on your own hotpink jackboots (steel-toed and cramponed) and kick that depression right where it hurts the most.
    More words would simply be superfluous.

  3. 4

    Dana, do whatever you need to do. We’ll sit quietly, hoping that you’ll get things worked out enough to write for us again, anxiously wondering what will happen to the homicidal felid, nervously pondering whether our Dana will sort herself out enough to return. No, don’t think about us and our wants and desires. We’re used to being neglected and overlooked, waiting for whatever morsels you might toss in our direction. We can persevere for days, weeks, fortnights even, hoping against hope for some small attention from you.

  4. 5

    Good luck, and thanks for posting this.

    (I am busy cleaning and sorting, just to be able to keep living in this place. I found a box with a project in it – the adhesive was expired by 13 years.)

  5. 6

    Just last week I was looking in a box kept in the bathroom sink cabinet. I found a tube of unopened toothpaste with an expiration date of October 31, 2008. I think I’ll use it.

  6. 9

    I miss seeing your posts, but I do understand that moving is a very busy time. Take your time and do what you need to do.

  7. 10

    I have been cleaning out my fridge, but I think I’ve gotten as far as I can with that job. So I’ll just pop in here once in a while, to see if there’s anything I can rescue from the bin. No need to stock up for me; I’m here to help.

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