volume one hundred and fifty-nine

not sorry i left

📍Written and sent from Kaurna land (otherwise known as Adelaide), partly with a pug napping on my lap, partly no pug.

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Sometimes I can make myself sad by dwelling on the past. I can wonder to myself “How could you have left?” when I recall all the wonderful friends, roommates, co-workers, employees of places I frequented for day and night time treats and commuters on the same bus timetable as me.

The truth is that I left to chase another geographical cure. This was the pattern for me for many years. I would arrive somewhere new, feel new, create a life that seemed new, decorate a new room or an apartment, settle into a new job, make new friends, explore new surroundings and then eventually when all of that excitement wore off — there I was, waiting. The same old me. Me and my problems never went away, I just found a way to distract myself from them over and over many kilometres and oceans. They always found a way to catch up. When they did, it was usually with the company of a whole new set of problems, too. Current and newly created to go with my “new” life.

So I’d run again. 

But I didn’t know I was running. I didn’t see the pattern. I knew I was restless and assumed that was just the adventurer in me. I never thought about how I saw these relocations as my way of dealing with anything I wasn’t happy with. And there was so much I wasn’t happy with.

Eventually, those new homes would be too loud, too far from things I wanted to be close to, too cold, too expensive, too great so I was bored (yes, really). The new job would be too distracting, too suffocating, too underpaid, too overworked, too unaligned with my values, too stuck in its ways, too male-dominated, too long of days, too much helping others chase their dreams while I was sure I had some of my own I could uncover if I worked somewhere that allowed them. The new city or neighbourhood would become repetitive and people knowing who I was wasn’t charming, it was bland. The exciting places to dine became my locals and the bartenders learned my order. At first, I loved all of this, and then it became monotonous for me. A drink being poured before I even sat down was cute, and then the late-night kebab shop preparing my order while I was still in line was embarrassing. 

I often think about all those chapters and how they were filled to the brim with good people, lovely sunsets, delicious food, dogs on the street, markets to peruse, places to swim, bands to sing along to, kitchen conversations to happen unexpectedly when venturing in for a snack at the same time as someone living with me and interactions with strangers that left impacts. I think about how none of that mattered then but matters so much now. Enough for me to try to remember every single one.

However, I think about all of those chapters I lived in and how none of them were headed toward sobriety. There was so much good in them that I took for granted, and at the same time, so many people I clung to that I didn’t realise made my lifestyle seem so normal.

Even though I was running away, somehow, I ended up exactly where I needed to be and I needed those multiple chapters to get me there. I needed to run until I was so sick of running and was forced to face myself. I ran so far away that by the time we were forced inside for two years I had run from everyone and had to spend that time alone. I was confronted with the reality I had been trying so hard to ignore and despite my best efforts, my running away coping mechanism was stripped from me when we were all told to stay put.

For the first time, I had nowhere to run to but within.

That changed everything.

I think about drunk me sometimes and the things I did and said and thought and it feels like I am thinking about a stranger or a character or someone else. Maybe a person I used to know. But the “me” is removed. I want to believe it is not me. I am sad it was me.

But because everything changed, now when I think about all those people I left, I know I am returning to them better. I never really left them, I just left them on a high note of some sort. Now I visit them as the best version of myself. I am the kind of person they deserve to be around and I am the kind of person who can be proud of who I am around them.

My life now is moving around more than ever. I have to pause and keep my finger on the pulse regularly to make sure I am doing what is right for me and for my continuous growth into the best version of myself. I am in a new place almost every month. My life is full of so much “new” but I hang onto all of the familiar with every stop. I keep up phone calls. I tell people when I am thinking of them. I take note of the places I love to return to and make sure to share this knowledge with locals if they haven’t already tried my discovery. I send so much snail mail. I have checked so many things off my bucket list and I continue to visit places Little Loz dreamed of every night when she longed to be anywhere else. Cuddling pets is the majority of my time. I am chasing dreams I forgot about while drinking and running. When I pass through a familiar place, I am so glad I get to see people I love.

When I wake up each day, there I am, and I am so thankful.

I am not done travelling but I am absolutely done running away.

Lovely reader, head into the comments and tell me a way lockdowns changed you for the better.

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here are three things i struggled with this week:

💤 How easily I forget the toll a lot of travelling around back-to-back will take on me and how long I need to come back to “normal”.

🫠 Playing God and trying to be like “Nah I don’t have food allergies, it’s all chill”. It is not, at all, chill.

🕠 Adjusting to a timezone that is a half-hour different. What is that all about?

here are three blessings from this week:

🌅 A sunrise — once it really starts illuminating — that is not quite white, but more of a very pale yellow. Like cream on a lemon meringue pie. And it fades into a pale pink, which fades into mauve, which fades into lapis blue on the furthest away point that the light hasn’t touched yet. All accompanied by occasional morning bird calls.

🦋 I love the way I’ve been treating myself lately. Not as in “treats”, but as in how I think and feel about myself.

🦜 Rosellas in the front yard.

here are three goals for the coming week:

😌 Take my own advice. Like when I turned to the dog who was barking a lot and was stressed and I was trying to calm him, “I’ve seen the future. It all works out in the end. It’s all okay for the dogs.” Dogs deserve happiness, and maybe, so do we.

🖋️ Continue waking up thinking “It’s going to be a beautiful day because it already is”.

🍫 Life on life’s terms.

pics or it didn’t happen:

restaurant window-peering-in wisdom

I love you and I appreciate you reading my letters because I really enjoy writing them to you.

🧡, LD (lauren deborah | she/they)