Jun 27, 2011


When I moved to Kansas City in 2003, I was just turning 15. It took me 5 years to soften to the city. I remember walking down on the Plaza as a 15 year old and being told it was far too dangerous to be there after dark. [Insert comical chuckle here]

In the 7 years of Kansas City living, I moved back and forth from Colorado, Washington, and Haiti. Two graduations later, I was packing all things to go to Colorado for a final stop. I packed two bags and got on a plane to Haiti.

Now I'm back. I can't for the life of me figure out what just happened in 2010-2011. I've found myself shutting down, pulling back, and just wanting to give the majority of the world a figurative (or literal?) F you. Pretty, eh?

When I went to Kansas City last week I met up with friends from years ago. I found myself surrounded with hugs and love and smiles and laughs. At the end of every day I sat on a couch in a silent house with two sleeping brothers upstairs. In that silence I tried to numb myself with television and internet browsing to keep out the fear and the images that just won't go away.

I've had to decide what to do next. In some ways, it was paralyzing. But driving the streets of Kansas City helped. Hearing a familiar voice from a pulpit that had carried me through a year of confusion and exhaustion helped. Snuggles and giggles from aforementioned brothers helped.

As I drove through Colorado the next few days, I found my answer. Go. Get over the need to be independent and brave. Go back and be broken and silent and transparent. Go, heal, process, heal, break, heal.

Two days are all that separate me. 8 years after my first move, I'm doing it again. This time without the neurotic cat and puffy eyes. This time around, crossing that state line will be more sweet than bitter.

Jun 25, 2011


Today I started going through all of my belongings and doing the annual life transition sort and discard. I found my chemistry test from college I will never throw away because I got 104%. I found my test scores from Adult Health which I did throw away because, really, who wants to remember that? I found my New Member Bunny clock from my first sorority formal. Sorry ZTA - it's on its way to Goodwill.

I'm always in trouble when I come across the toys. My parents wouldn't let me watch Toy Story II when they give away the toys and they feel abandoned because they knew I would take that as reality. I remember the Jungle Animals on Christmas morning. I remember waiting in line at Toys For The Fun Of It for Beanie Babies (cats only, of course). And the countless hours Becca and I spent with Littlest Pet Shop animals, each with specific names. My mom marveled at how we could know every name for every animal and not know more than 5 president names. I still don't see the problem.

I am amazed by how I can live out of two suitcases for a year and come back to so much stuff. I hope I can get rid of a lot of this, but my sentimentality seems to be getting in the way.

Something to work on. Acknowledgement is the first step in changing, right. Right?