Monday, March 18, 2013

home is where the feet are.


To say I haven't had the best luck with housing in the last year would be an understatement.

Last April, I was left to live solo in an apartment made for two [incomes] with my drug dealing neighbors and a broken fragile heart. But time worked quickly to patch up my life, and I found what I thought would be an ideal setup by June. Cato and I packed up our bags and moved into a massive, modern basement apartment in pretty much the scariest "up and coming" neighborhood in Denver.

Unfortunately, the scariest experience we had there was just trying to walk in the front door. You see, my basement apartment was only accessible after passing by a dog-door, and my landlord was incredibly neglectful when it came to her two weimaraners and one golden-doodle. Fast forward about 12 dog bites, thousands of dollars in anxiety treatment and a new family for Cato, and a chewed up front door I knew it was time to move.

In the interest of replenishing my depleted bank account I opted for a room mate and found a sweet little condo a block from Cheesman Park. The price was right and the location couldn't have been better so I signed up...for a six month lease. [Note: I did not sign up for a 5.5 month lease, I signed up for a SIX MONTH LEASE]

You probably see where this is going.

About two weeks ago, my landlord informed me she was selling the condo from under us, and 7 emails later I received a notice to vacate 15 days before my lease end-date, because "having tenants in the apartment while trying to sell it isn't working out for anyone".

I can't lie to you guys, I started to feel really homeless out here in the wild mid-west.

Luckily, I was blessed and provided with the opportunity to travel for the past two weekends, which afforded me the frame of mind to appreciate my new nomadic lifestyle.

I got to travel back to Austin and I was asked on the plane if I was leaving or coming home. The only answer I could come up with was both! [Sidebar: I've also been taking American Sign Language classes and I love that there are different signs for 'house' and 'home'. Because I tell you what, they are so often not the same.] I may not have a stable apartment in Denver, but I know for sure that I am home.

Home is not the roof over my head, but the ground that I stand on when I'm surrounded by loving, caring and reasonable people. And most recently home has been...
On this overlook in Boulder, CO
At Church on Christmas Eve in Austin, TX
In my parents' backyard on this way too sunny day in Austin, TX
In this movie theater with Reeses Pieces in my popcorn

In front of this sunset in Boulder, CO

Inside this dream in Rocky Mountain National Park

Standing on this, my first frozen lake in Rocky Mountain National Park








Wednesday, March 6, 2013

rsvp.

This is a story about how my friend Megan changed my life.

OK, that was dramatic, but truthful. And the truth is what this story is all about!

Once upon a time, I was reading Megan's blog and I came across a post entitled "An Invitation to Not be a Liar". I was inspired. Now, in an effort to be all therapisty and balanced and whatnot, I stored this phrase in the mantra department of my brain. The thing about the mantra department, is that it's severely underutilized. A few months passed and little progress was made toward goals of being direct and open and honest with others.

I've never been much of a blatant liar...just more of a truth avoider. I guess I'm an avoider of all things uncomfortable. And for that reason I tend to leave out the uncomfortable details when communicating with others. This week I experienced a perspective shift. For the first time I was aware that I was the one being spared of an uncomfortable fact. AND IT SUCKED.

A few weeks ago I interviewed for a job I was really passionate about. I knew the position needed to be filled quickly, so each day following the interview I checked my phone and my email thinking I would get some kind of quick response, and hopefully the news would be good. I even ran into the hiring manager several times a week and received nothing but a "hey, how are ya". Two days ago, I found out through the grapevine that a new person was starting in the position. That person was not me. And guess what little phrase sneaked right up to the tip of my tongue and has been camping out ever since!

An invitation to not be a liar.

I still haven't gotten my rejection, and I don't know if I ever will. But I do know that through bitterness can come change. So change is what I did. I started an internal campaign to change my behaviors and my communication strategies so the people in my life aren't left checking their phone and email 47 times an hour waiting for news that will likely never come.

My first order of business was to break some hearts. I recently tried online dating. I felt it was the most effective way to fully-immerse myself back into the dating scene after the ol' detox. And immersed I was. I was hasty with my phone number, but it did get into the hands of a few lucky gentlemen and dates were set up. And y'all- guess what. I met someone. I met someone so right that everyone else seemed wrong. And I couldn't rectify going on any more wrong dates. So I knew what I had to do.

But the thought of canceling things freezes my brain and my words and my hands and I end up ignoring people and never-ever-ever getting back together.

But in response to Megan's invitation, I decided to just send some simple, truthful texts and not be a liar. I mean it would have been easy to say I was sick, or busy, or that aliens had abducted my car, or that my legs had been amputated. But saying those things wouldn't have gotten the point across that it just wasn't going to work out this time. And I would have had to keep getting sick, or abducted, week after week, and I'm just not that creative. So I said it like it was.

And y'all, it worked. It was the easiest thing I ever imagined to be terrifying!

And I lived honestly ever after, the end.