Dripping Salt Water in the Mountains
I’ve been silent for awhile — it’s been a year since I’ve written anything public. I have 10+ articles sitting in my drafts folder, half-finished because I started collapsing, sobbing, or hyperventilating in the middle of them. It’s as if sharing writing with others will be admitting the defeat or pain I’ve felt so viscerally for the last year.
Today, I am back in San Francisco for a short work trip. When I am here, I’m able to stop being reactive and start being reflective, maybe because it’s so emotional, maybe because I can breathe. For a few days, I get a reprieve from trying, and I get to see friends, family and hug people.
So, how do I explain this? It’s been hard enough trying to explain it to myself, nonetheless others. In short, I had a dream. I’d move out of San Francisco by my 30th birthday. And I did. As a result, it tore me in pieces. I can’t explain why, except that maybe it made me realize that some things can’t be explained. I’m holding fast to the notion that I needed to do this, I needed to move away in order to appreciate what I had and understand what’s truly important. It’s been a year of moving, trying to settle, coming home-that’s not-home-but still-home, trying to make it work, beating myself up about it not working because there is some deep part within me that won’t let it work, then feeling stuck and frustrated that I can’t just close my eyes and channel the wisps of energy inside me that, at one time, felt joy and laughter and promise and hope. It’s been a lot.
I have probably cried at least once a day, every day. I didn’t think it was possible, that I would well up with tears and drip salt water all over my car, my quilt, my kitty cats, the bathtub, my brother’s/my friends shoulders, the Platte River and trails up the Flatirons. Somedays, I wake up and feel fine, to find myself sobbing in front of the mirror 10 minutes later. Other times I wake up feeling sad (and sore — tension sleeping is a real thing) and try to meditate in the morning just to allow myself the space to cry, and then become exhausted from crying. It is so, so tiring, all of this salt water production.
So, what’s happened? Depression, anxiety, and culture shock? I keep saying this, but it feels like moving to Colorado was the first time I moved to America. And Boulder, weird liberal white college town that it is (yep, I fit in) is not even “real” Colorado. But it’s different and I don’t like it. I didn’t realize how important diversity is to me — I always knew it was, but it also always existed around me, and felt normal. A culture of different cultures felt comforting. In Colorado, I am surrounded by other different cultures; different white culture. Rich white elitist yuppies — yeah, those don’t feel so foreign. But military veterans, hippie street kids, outdoor bros and “middle class middle america” are just so strange. There’s this wholesome, white, christian midwestern thing that weirds me out. It’s so bizzare.
I live in a one of the most beautiful, active, and educated cities in the world. I am lucky that I can be in the mountains in minutes, and I (still) have a job that affords me the luxury to purchase trendy outdoors clothes. Sometimes, I go on a ride or a hike and I do see a flash of what life could be like, if I enjoyed it here. But mostly, it’s just me, stuck inside in the snow, baking elaborate tarts to share with no one. Or going to the pottery studio because it’s something I can do to get out of the house, and one of the things I can do to interact with people.
So, I’ve been suffering with nostalgia and loneliness and depression. And I’ve asked myself, what would it take to stay? I’d need to see glimmers of a life there that I want. I don’t see those. What’s stopping me from coming back? Fear, feeling like I failed. Fear about money, a job, finding a partner. Not wanting to come back to the rat race, living somewhere loud and busy. Can I solve for that?
I don’t know. But there’s more energy to trying to figure that out then there is in trying to stay. So I’m going to roll with it. Find a new job. Move back. Create a home you love. Engage with friends, family, people. Get the fuck out of Colorado.
