I Moved Here Two Years Ago Today

And I don't feel much like celebrating.

The panic I felt when we had traveled a whole exit away from where I had called home for the past three years still grips my heart every time I think back to that moment. My no longer long distance (as of that very moment) boyfriend was driving the U-Haul and Max (my cat) was drugged up, laying in my lap. I was numb.

The decision to move wasn't an easy one rather a logical one.

My now ex and I both were sick of riding the Bolt Bus every weekend to see one another. Sick of the Skype sessions and talking to each other's frozen faces on our laptops. Sick of feeling pangs of jealously when we saw other couples taking their same zip code addresses for granted.

Plus, I didn't have a job or much hope to find one left. I had recently pulled myself out of outpatient (eating disorder) and made the choice to leave zulily (a negative, suffocating, underpaid environment that sucked the life and creativity out of its creatives) in order to keep my recovery and my sanity. I was flat broke, exhausted by job hunting, and insanely lonely as will happen with unemployment.

I needed a change and this seemed to make sense: move to Vancouver where my boyfriend and soon to be new job was. I sincerely heard the warnings (never move for a guy), concerns (but you love Seattle so much), and encouragement (you don't know until you try) and I made my choice. Plus Seattle isn't that far right?

Fuck that. Seattle is far. Not necessarily in miles or hours of drive time--but when you are no longer central to the things that make you feel like you, make you happy, make you at home--you're far. Far from yourself.

And two years later--which is what they told me it would take to be comfortable here--I still feel far. Even farther than I was before. I no longer have a home in Seattle and I don't have a home here. Life, construction and growth has changed what I used to know and love.

And Vancouver? Portland? I still don't know Burnside from uhhh another city street. My boyfriend and I are no longer together and with that came a painful distance from people I felt like were my family. It's like I moved here all over again.

The past 6 months I've fucked up, scrambled, drank, danced, partied, played, and held on tight to anything that felt like home and belonging no matter how detrimental, unhealthy, fucked up the situation / person / activity was.

Sinking lower into depression, anxiety increasing, my eating disorder and substance abuse oh and you can't forget the inevitable self-hate--I once again feel homeless.

I am unhappy here. I am barely keeping my head above water at my job. My rent kills me. And I have lost my best friend and the people I considered my family here. And yet, somehow the motivation for change isn't there. I'm disgustingly comfortable in this lifeless, depressive, anxious routine I cling to to get by on everyday. I feel useless, unmotivated, unwanted and am getting more and more comfortable with being in this incredibly uncomfortable place.

Making excuses, justifications, and just the slightest alteration so I can continue to wallow in my self-pity. I have no goals, I have no ambition, no dreams I'm just merely existing. I worked so hard to try to make it work here. To do the right thing. And I just feel more fucked up than I was before I left, but there's no going back so I guess I just keep trying to more forward.

Last Night Was A Shit Show-But I Wasn't

My favorite producer is on. I've waited 4 months for this night. I've got a boss ass outfit on. I'm with some of my best friends. But I'm having a terrible fucking time.

I have been stepped on, spilled on, bumped into, pushed, and harassed for the past two hours. My body is shaking, my mind is saying escape-we are not safe. I use my manners trying to not lose my shit, "excuse me, oh sorry, can I get by?" I'm talking to everyone and yet no one. No one is present, no one has any sense of self, everyone is fucked up and for once I'm not.

I find solace in the green room where it's bright, empty, and you can only hear the bass. I'm talking to two of my friends but I'm not really present. I feel myself shaking. Why can't I calm down? I look at my phone seeing nothing. I fidget and get water. I stand up, sit down. Can't stop moving. They talk casually, calmly and my mind is blank as to any kind of response to the topic. I can't be here anymore. Even in this "peaceful" (as peaceful as a green room can be) place I'm about to explode.

My mind and body are saying get out of here. I dip out as politely as I can which turns into awkward mumbles and sarcastic comments that I don't even think made sense.

I venture back to the stage. Hoping that dancing will help. I get pushed back and forth like I'm a ping pong ball at the bar and I explode. I tear through the crowd heading for the door, I vaguely hear my friends asking what's wrong, "I can't". My anxiety raises to the surface and releases itself through my hands, I gasp for air.

This is not how tonight is supposed to go.

I post up as far away from everyone as I can. And all I can say is "I get it."

Realization waves over me, almost comforting. "I fucking get it."

THIS is why I continually get way too drunk at shows. The stimulation from the lights, the music (as much as I enjoy it), and mostly the fucking fucked up people. Girls with eyes half open, black lipstick smeared over their face that elbow me when I'm trying to get water, the guys that get in my face to tell me I'm pretty, the people that decide to rage really hard when no one has room to move. The guy that needs 3 bouncers to take him down because he's so angry about "some bitch".

This has been my first sober show in a year. I've never been shy about my substance abuse issues so you all know that this is a huge feat for me. And one that I've learned so much from.

It's sad to me that something that used to be so healing, rejuvenating, fun for me has turned into this. A place where I'm so triggered that I am in mid panic attack for hours on end. I have been going to EDM shows for 5 years now and always plan for them to be something that helps me find myself but it's mostly turned into a place where I lose myself.

I always wondered what was so wrong with me. Why, no matter how many limits I set, no matter how many goals I write, how many people I tell I need help I keep drinking too much. And now I get it. Alcohol is a"coping skill" that "works" instantly. And I need to learn another one and also probably not put myself in these situations anymore. It's kind of sad to let go of something that I thought was so good, maybe like a boyfriend you really shouldn't be with but he's what you know, how you identify yourself, how you spend your time, how you feel like you belong.

You go back to what's comfortable but this is no longer serving me. And no I'm not like swearing off shows or anything because it is my life but I definitely will have to be much more selective about which ones I go to and really think about what the environment will be like past the I love that producer that'll be a great show.

And the other half of this is my social anxiety. I don't know what to do about that yet but I know it won't get any better if I continue to self-medicate with alcohol.  Last night I finally calmed down after riding through that panic attack and maybe that's just what it'll take.. Being really fucking uncomfortable for a while knowing it will end and knowing how to take care of myself in that moment.

This post isn't really as emotional or profound as I'd like it to be, but I needed to get my thoughts out. And maybe it'll help someone else. <3 p="">