I’ve been thinking lately.
Thinking too much and not doing enough.
I keep waiting for my life to begin. I rush around, stressing myself out about different things, always trying to carve a little bit of time for myself, which I end up not using wisely and then I am stuck with more stuff and more chaos than I ever intended for myself or my life.
I work, work, work, so hard, as many hours a week as I can get at Dairy Queen and then the babysitting job on the side. I spend long hours for little pay and now I have nothing to show for it. I owe my mom money for the car, which I am so grateful to have, but I can’t seem to get ahead. I have no savings for next year. I did the math in the early spring, figuring out how much money I could make and save for next year, keep as my rainy day or alcohol fund. Nothing. Zip. Maybe two hundred dollars if I’m lucky for myself.
No shopping. No new shoes. Nothing to replace the box of clothes and shoes that disappeared in the move in December. We’re certain of that now. Gone. Something is missing, and we’re not sure how to find it. I was so relieved to get home that I didn’t check the little packing receipts that I had, making sure that everything had been delivered. Now, six months later, no, seven, I am without pairs of shoes that I hold dear, without certain clothes. And here I am with no money to replace them. I’m not going naked, that’s for certain, but I definitely haven’t been able to do the shopping that some of my friends can do.
I stress out over little things. Do I really need new clothes? Part of me says, no, not at all, but there’s that other part that is moving back to Chicago, where the elements of style are slightly different than they are here in Denver, a little more refined, fancy, dress to impress, business, etc.
I am sick, now too. Mom and I made our way to Urgent Care yesterday with my intensely swollen lymph nodes. They’re fine, they tell me, I just need rest. Ha.
The lease arrived today via email. Now, we have to figure out a plan. I don’t have a plan and that scares me. I need to start packing, need to find a way to get this all figured out, need to find a way to somehow be in two different places at once (Denver and Chicago) so that I can get my life settled in both places.
Time is running out.
Last night, I realized that Danny and I have less than a month left of hanging out. The lease on my apartment starts in less than three weeks. I asked for Sundays off, but that’s lame because there aren’t very many of them left. There is no time.
I’m scared. This is the definite end of some things and the definite beginning of others and I’m just not quite prepared. I need a plan, and we don’t have one. All of this is expensive and to find the cheapest way to do it is not something that’s going to come easily.
Ah. And I wonder why I’m sick. I’m out late every night, doing the same thing, haunting the same places and yet I feel as though I’m so busy. I wake up early, sleep a little later if I’m lucky and then do the whole thing over. Entirely.
What if I ship all of my boxes out there again and everything gets messed up? What if they lose all the boxes? What if we can’t come up with the rent money? What if we get evicted? What if? What if?
I don’t have the tools necessary to build a life, we’re working on collecting them. Working on a lot of things.
“We’re getting closer, maybe farther.”
So true. Not only is my source of income ending, but a few of my relationships as well. Katie and I have grown apart lately, more so than ever before, and I think that both of us are okay with that. She’s moved on to bigger and better things, sorority girls and the like, and I’ve just settled into myself a little more. Danny and I are well aware that this is the end of the relationship that we’ve dragged out for too long. We left it for the summer, a fragile bubble of hope, and the bursting is about to happen. There’s love there, but not enough, and the wrong kind. I genuinely care for him as a friend, however, and I am going to miss having someone always there for me when I needed anything. Dad and I had a better relationship over Christmas break, but over summer, there’s been a disconnect and I just don’t know that it will recover at all. All of the effort that I made to overcome the past has been smashed to pieces and will only continue as long as I am in Denver. Mom and I are tense as well, though not irrevocably so. I’m stressed that she doesn’t see certain things as a priority and she’s thinking about other things as well. This move is stressing her out, understandably so, but I don’t think she wants to make this work. (She does).
At times, I’m so very happy and at other time, I’m just so miserable I can hardly keep the tears in my eyes. This isn’t good right now. I’m losing so many things, gaining so many other things. I’m just not ready for all of Denver to end for me. I’m scared that Chicago will be intense and hellish and I’m not sure I’m ready for all of it.
What if I can’t find a job? What if I don’t get straight A’s? What if?
None of this made any sense, I’m sure, because I’m about to switch gears and tell you all how excited I am to have my own place. I can’t wait to cook in it, to have my own space, my own living room, closets, a bedroom. I can’t wait to move in and to see it. I can’t wait to have all of my stuff set up in our apartment, I can’t wait to live with Emily, I can’t wait to get everything settled and get back into the routine. I can’t wait to go to the beach, to drive up Lake Shore Drive, to get Portillo’s and have everyone over for a housewarming party. I can’t wait to drink cheap beer, to try and eat healthy on a budget (not so easy as it sounds), I can’t wait to go back to classes and see all my friends. I think that will be the best part. I’m nervous.