Take-off

The floor of my room at my Mom's house, which is where I have been living for the last month, is buried under various mountains of clothing. The suitcase I'm borrowing for our upcoming trip is laying open and empty on the floor. Body dysmorphia, fear, and excitement are fueling the insanity of this mess. My packing skills have always been horrendous. I'm genetically predisposed to it. My mom brings three bags with her when she comes to visit us in Brooklyn from Long Island, for a day trip. No matter how much I pack there is always this looming fear that I'm unprepared, that I'm forgetting something, and I usually am. 

We (my sister, husband, and I) leave for LA for a month on Saturday. It's Tuesday night and I've been fighting off tears for hours. I feel like I'm PMSing, which considering my history I probably am. The events that had been pre-planned for months and have been my markers of time have almost all passed. Our good friends got married last Sunday and leave for India tomorrow, the first leg of their world tour. My goal of thirty days of fitness was accomplished this morning. Time is passing and I'm both grateful and terrified. Tomorrow I go into Brooklyn for the last time before we leave, to get dinner with friends and to bring Ben back to Long Island after his last day of work. It's the last of my markers and when we leave, after dinner and goodbyes, I don't know when we will be back or for how long when we are.

I can honestly say that this is the most open-ended my life has ever been. I have no idea what is going to happen or where we are going to end up. I'm trying to have the least amount of expectations as possible. As a control freak this has not been easy. It's been an important challenge and lesson I am trying and willing to take on. 

Everyone has been asking me what am I going to do while we're in LA. "I'm just wingin it" I respond, "Only the future knows!", "A lot of Yoga and outdoor activities?" I have no idea. The only certainty is that I will continue to edit, re-structure, and work on my book. Last month I assembled my second, first draft. Two years after having started it. Other than handing it off to both of my parents to read I haven't been able to handle doing anything with my book this month. After six months of being immersed in my past and living on my computer writing and re-writing and writing and re-writing I needed a break. A few days ago I picked it up and tried to start reading it all the way through. The cringe of doubt and knowledge of necessary edits crept in almost immediately and I had to put it down. Writing is painful, re-hashing and re-living my past is painful, but finishing this book and helping people by getting my story out into the world is literally the only thing I know for certain I want to do with my life. So I forge on. Maybe the change of scenery and the knowledge that we are in the midst of doing things to change our lives will give me the inspiration I need to get it to a place where I'm genuinely proud of it. Much like everything else there is no way to know until we are there.

I am trying hard to learn how to be okay with not really having a plan and just taking things as they come. I'm excited for the adventure. For airports and airplanes. For reuniting with old friends and making new ones. For exploring a new city. For new teachers and new lessons to learn. For getting to live with my sister for the first time in about thirteen years. For growth. For taking chances. For Ben and Danielle taking the future of their careers into their own hands. For new opportunities. For a new beginning. For change. For palm trees.

My suitcase will inevitably get packed and I'll be able to see my floor once more. And even if I forget to pack the most vital of things, whatever September brings I am ready. We are ready.