Two Suitcases = My Life

Last night, I had a break down, or as my friend and I enjoy calling them, a ‘menty b.’ It’s our fun little way of making a not-so-enjoyable experience a bit comedic, because that’s what we girls do, right? We try to laugh off the unpleasant parts of life, the ones where *gasp*, it’s revealed that we’re actual human beings who sometimes feel an emotion other than joy. Well, last night, I was about as far away as you could get from joy, or contentedness, or anything that was something other than miserable. I was that kind of gasping, no words sad, where you lay at the end of your bed and cry about every battle you didn’t even realize you were fighting. That coffee I got that was bad last week? Yeah, I cried about that, too.

My breakdown wasn’t because of coffee, in fact it was words texted from a person that sent me over the edge, but it was an edge I’d been teetering over, one I just needed a push to fall off. Because here’s the thing, in four weeks from now, twenty-seven days to be exact, I’m going to say goodbye to everyone I love, get on a plane with a one-way ticket, and the only things I can take with me will be stuffed in two suitcases and a personal item. Can you maybe see why I had a break down? Because, it’s scary to look around my bedroom, to see all the clothes in my closet, the records hanging on my wall and the tapestry I’ve had since I was seventeen, and know that it all has to fit in two suitcases. My life, everything I own, has to be condensed to two suitcases. That’s… terrifying. Last week I tried on all my jeans, which is almost thirty pairs, and had to narrow it down to five. My sweaters? Don’t get me started, because I have a Goodwill addiction, and they’ve got the best grandma sweaters. But you see, I’ve had to up and move before, with much less notice, and I did okay. Clothes come and go, decorations can be re-bought, but I think what’s scary is what can’t be put on the plane and flown, the parts of my life that have to stay here while I go away. What really hurts is the fast-approaching reality that I’m leaving my family, my friends – the people I love, and I’m scared of being alone.

Fun fact: I was once married. Isn’t that a little crazy? Sometimes it seems like ages ago, others like it was just this morning. Time, grieving, and healing are strange that way. We were together a total of seven years, married almost two, and for all that time, I was comforted by the fact that, no matter where I went or what was going on, I’d never be alone. Well, that didn’t quite go as planned; I learned that you can lay beside someone every night, and still be the loneliest person in the world. When I left and moved to the city last year, I was alone, and it was hard. But through the freedom of being alone by myself, I learned a lot about who I was, who I was capable of being, and what kind of future I wanted for myself. There can be equal parts beauty and sadness in being alone, sometimes it just depends on your outlook, or the time of day. Last night, the fear of moving and saying goodbye hurt, but it was the overarching fear of being alone, with no one really caring, that took hold. I take pride in being independent, in taking care of myself and treating myself, but I think there’s a secret part in us all that wants to be taken care of by another person. I’m not afraid to admit that I want someone to know I’m home safe, that I want someone to care about me; but I can be afraid to admit how much it pains me to have lost that, and wonder if I’ll ever have it again. That was last night, the fear of leaving, the fear of loneliness, and the fear of no one caring.

Cut to this morning. I messaged my two closest friends, Madeline and Emily, about my menty b and how nervous I was. They both responded in the way I knew each of them would: humor and caring paragraphs, respectively. I laughed, I cried, and I was comforted, because I realized that, no matter the distance in miles, I am never truly alone. Here I have these two amazing people, women who answer when I call, who check my phone location at night, who do life with me no matter where in the country (soon to be world), either of us are. No, I don’t have a partner sharing my bed, going on runs, or cooking dinner with me at night, but I have some really amazing friends, friends who always remind me of how cared for I am. Yeah, I get lonely, sometimes I feel like the loneliest person in the world, until I remember how many people are out there that care about me. Packing everything into two suitcases is going to be hard, and there will be times on this journey where I feel alone, but what a comfort it is to know that I am never alone. My life isn’t what will fit in two bags, it’s all the people and places and things that fill my heart, and thankfully, there’s no weight limit to what it can carry.

And you want to know the bright side in all this? Well, aside from remembering that I have some pretty great friends. I picked up a shift meal prepping food for a family with a newborn, and to be honest, all I wanted to do was call out, but I try to be a woman of my word, and this trip isn’t paying for itself. I greeted the mom, Emelie, who is fantastic and kind, and she showed me all the ingredients laid out for the meals I needed to prep. There, written on paper and taped to the shelf, was a note that said: “Molly – Your food is in the fridge – Don’t forget to eat!!” I laughed, and a little part of me wanted to cry again, because she couldn’t have known how much her making sure I remembered to eat, her caring enough to write me a note when I was there for them, meant to me. You never know what someone else could be going through, how your act of kindness could bring joy to their day. I’m sure in the next few weeks and months, I’ll hit a lot more rough patches, but I can’t wait to see the bright side of things.

Yours Truly,

the Bright Side Blonde

P.S. Here’s a photo I took of the note, because it meant too much not to share.