moving – Ivy

A little under two weeks ago, Pup and I loaded up our U-Haul and drove to our new city. In the intervening time, we’ve set up our home and gotten to know our neighborhood. Later today, we’ll drive the last of the cardboard boxes that held our things to recycling.

It’s bittersweet to leave the place I called home for the past four years. I got my Master’s there. I found my career and my passion there. I met friends I’ll hopefully have for the rest of my life. I fell in love there. Twice. (I’ll get to that story sometime.)

I know I haven’t been very good about updating this tumblr. When I first started it, I was uncomfortable with living my life as the person I knew I was inside. It gave me a space to be that person, and I have been eternally grateful for what it’s allowed me. But more and more, I’ve found myself able to finally be that person in my life. I never, ever thought I would be able to say that. But I am finally, truly my full authentic self, and I feel as though I have the upper hand in my basically lifelong battle with shame. So, I’ve needed this blog less and less.

I’m excited to continue on this journey in this new place. I am still hoping to update this blog. But for the people who’ve asked if my inactivity is a sign of things going wrong in my life, it is quite the opposite.

Thank you for all the support, kindness and candor you all bring to this site.

Ivy

“I’m happy for you,” Leo whispered against my skin, trailing a line of kisses across my clavicle. It was Saturday night and we were in my bed.

“Hm?” I asked. “Why’s that?”

It was late; I was just teetering on the precipice of sleep, a little drunk and otherwise exhausted. Oh top of having a long week, my apartment was packed: Pup’s and my roommate’s boyfriend hanging around and planning to sleep over, Leo was spending the night. Prior, he and I had taken a long hike and had a really nice dinner together, all accompanied by one of those vast, all-day kinds of conversations I love. We’d returned to my place to join Pup, our roommate, her boyfriend and another friend of ours for a silly night of boardgames and beers. He’s met my friends a few times before – and he and Pup get along famously – so the entire evening was an absolute blast. We’d all had a bit too much to drink, so Pup opted for the pullout couch (honestly, a poly lifesaver and one of our best investments, it’s more comfortable than our actual bed) and Leo and I took the bedroom.

“Your news. I’ve been thinking about it tonight,” he explained. “I’m happy for you, but I’ve decided I’m allowed to be sad.”

I’d been saving up the news that I am moving to a new city with Pup in six months for when I saw him in person. Though I’ve been slowly but enthusiastically getting around to sharing the news with people close to me, I noticed that this was the first time I actually felt a little twinge of melancholy in relating it. It was bittersweet. I’ve been a bit too busy to update you all on my life, but things have been going really, really well for us.

“I feel the same way about myself,” I admitted. “If that makes any sense.”

That night, I’d looked around my tiny kitchen and saw, packed in around our little table, a cohort of some of the most important people to me. And I realized that, four years ago, I didn’t know any of them.

In one of my favorite songs of his, David Bowie sings: “My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare/I had to cram so many things to store everything in there.” It’s a sentiment I’ve felt a lot lately, in taking into account the four years I’ve spent in this city. For as excited I am to move onto this new phase and the opportunities it holds, I have often become overwhelmed by the depth and breadth of the little life I’ve created for myself here. So much of my life here is no longer comprised of the things I brought with me when I first moved to this city.

“I never knew I’d need so many people,” Bowie laments a few lines later, and I absolutely get it. Because, fuck, I am going to really miss all of this.

The day has finally come. I’m catching some sleep before I fly out with Sir to my new place. I’m nervous and excited and full of jitters. I’ve stocked a queue for the next few days while I settle in, so be good while I’m gone.

What he puts up with all the time.

He’s the kind of person where if he breaks the toaster, he gets the toaster repaired.

I’m the kind of person where if I break the toaster, I start googling ways to heat bread with a lighter.

whyexactly:

That time Mr. Craftsmate helped Ivy move into her new apartment:

He read the paper, nursed a bottle of whiskey, and occasionally paused to comment on how quiet the new place was, and how great her ass looked in that dress, as she scrubbed the floor.

I can’t help but wonder if packing like this will get me a discount on moving my stuff.