Exhale

I have been holding my breath for a few days now.

Kind of waiting to wake up from this weird state of surreal that seems to not be leaving anytime soon.

Let me just say a few things:

1.  I am, unfortunately, a valley girl. I am not proud of this, but manfriend has forced this concept down my throat; I do hate being cold, and enjoy a good latte. Shun me if you dare. With that said, metropolitan life suits me quite well. And although North Dakota is not the hub of all things modern in our fair country, Bismarck in particular does have a lot to offer by way of commerce and full scale suburban life.
2. I don't personally have anything against North Dakota, or Bismarck-proper. So if you are from here, or a place similar to here, I am not hatin'. In fact, I relish the opportunity to be separated from my familiar because it's good for the soul. What I do dislike, is being away from co-ops and hyper-local restaurants and JCrew. I will miss those things, and I am allowed to miss them, so just let me whine about it.
3. I am far away from home again. Not 'home' as in my "mother's bosom". Home as in, when I need a good wine-cry, I can walk across the hall or sweat it out at my favorite oh-so-familiar yoga studio or circumnavigate traffic with my eyes closed (Do not try driving with your eyes closed!). 

But keeping those three things in mind, the answer to the question of how I'm doing out here, is "fine". Not in the "I'm-actually-mad-at-you-so-you-need-to-keep-asking-until-I-tell-you-what's-up, fine." I mean the actual sense of the word in it's true form:

I'm downloading and processing a new place. I could have moved across the river to Minneapolis and I'd still be doing the same thing--only with more coffee and dinner date distractions in between. I like  love my apartment because SO MANY CLOSETS! (When you live in 50+ year old homes for 8 years, you do not take those for granted.) Moving itself is exhausting physically but I think it spends us mentally for all of the adjustments you have to make from your comfort zone.

But I'm starting to take hold of this new normal and embrace it for what it is- a real-life adventure. Not something out of the movies that's romanticized, but a daily story that will one day be a time period encapsulated as "The Bismarck Years".

The days are flying by, which seems weird to say but I haven't looked at the clock mid-supper before 8:30pm because there's a lot of stuff to get distracted with-- easy things like putting away more pans, and googling curtains or office chairs.

It's Wednesday, so it feels good to finally exhale. I'm not holding my breath for any surprises or some sort of elaborate Punk'd episode to unravel, but I'm here and this is my now.

On a related note, if anyone has any good butchers or places to buy good bacon, I'm desperately seeking a good thick-cut. #lowmaintenance #notsorry

Tally-ho!

I cried in yoga tonight.

It was a sculpt class and I was on my back sweating to hold a bridge pose, counting backward from 25 and my sweat gained the companionship of some welcome tears.

I've been intermittently saying goodbye to things here in St. Paul; friends, restaurants, familiar streets that know a special part of me in this chapter of my life. It has been difficult to say the least.

What exacerbates the stress, is my anxiousness to leave. I am giddy. My apartment is going to be awesome. I get to spend more time with my man-friend-- a luxury previously unimaginable, even recently as my friend Natalie will tell you that he's a figment of my imagination because he travels so much.

I will be home more. I am out, all the time, being the most hedonistic version of myself I've ever been as an adult. I've spent equal amounts in petrol and on food making friends, and attending events because I want to soak up every last drop of this glorious, wonderful state.

I learned my lesson when I moved from Duluth, that you will, more than anything, miss the little things. Coffee from your favorite spot, your favorite grocery store (because a good one is hard to find!), the way your street can be perfectly peaceful and make you feel so safe, so homey...or the way the sunlight hits the kitchen on an otherwise average day, making it delightfully noteworthy.

Those little things I've photographed in my mind (and on my phone) because although each day in itself is different, this "now" is something I knew would be exceptional from the very start. I have been spoiled and yes, blessed (even though I cringe at writing the word) these last months.

So when I was in class, going to my last Yoga Sculpt class for however long it takes me to get back to here, I cried.

25, 24... I can't believe I'm moving... 23, 22, Why is my spine so boney right now?? 21, 20.. ah to be young again, I wouldn't go back to being 21 if you paid me... 19, 18... I'm hungover just thinking about it; I was so naive, what did I know of the world? 17, 16... not enough to know I was clueless... 15, 14... I would have never guessed this would be my (and our [manfriend's]) path, but why not? 13, 12... seriously longest series ever... 

I've had a lot of people ask me if I'm excited, and I never thought I'd say this, but I am. Truly, and genuinely for this next stage. I sweat-cried my tears today and I hope they'll be the last (mostly because I hate goodbyes and want to escape like a thief in the night). But I think this next journey will be extremely nourishing to manfriend and I, as we pioneer the Great Plains, challenging creatively and just the right setting to ease into the bones of my late twenties.

It's going to be a fun ride. Bismarck, I'm comin' for ya.

Work-a-holic

I've had this kind of crazy recurring dream that I've been living in an action movie. Probably because the last few months of my life have been a hilarious montage of too much wine and a lot of brunch dates with my gal pals with a healthy --erm-- decent-- dose of sculpt classes in between. But as we all know, every movie has the roller-coaster of emotions that comes from too much bliss-- (sorry it's the Capricorn in me).

You know when you're going fast on a bike (or accidentally hydroplane) and you hit a big puddle and slow-motion slow-down--as in every other molecule in your body is still going super fast but your tires and sweet purple mountain bike decide they're going to take a chill pill underneath you? 

Well my involuntary slow-down was when my girlfriends asked me how many jobs I actually have. 

Kind of comical-- for most people the answer is like: 1 "real" job (a typical 9-5) and maybe 1 side job for shoe money or something leisurely. But I some how answered the question with not one, not two, but six. Yes. Six.

What in the...?

I know right???

*What comes after hitting the puddle is the inevitable reality of motion and the laws of gravity reminding you what's up ala pavement.*

I kind of panicked. Counting each role out loud made me think of all the commitments I'd made-- like I'd planned my senior semester all over again but just doubled my load for no reason whatsoever. Remember that chaos? Registering for EVERYTHING so you got in and then only showing up on day 1 to see if you hated the syllabus, the teacher or had a friend you could stick it out with? No? Just me? Oh okay. 

WHY DO I WORK SO MUCH??? Am I a workaholic? I met with this total babe from a PR agency last week and I was embarrassed when telling her about myself because I sound like I can't commit to anything since I commit to everything. 

I frequently tell my friend Sarah to slow down-- just because you can do everything doesn't mean you have to. I think the momentum of moving + the new year + my Saturn return had me juggling so many knives, that once I stopped to think about what I was actually doing, I realized how dangerous it is to myself to juggle knives (literally --but in this case figuratively because what psychopath juggles knives?)

Something about turning 27 has really set me on a path of serious self-love. I don't think I would have given myself a break before because of 'youth' and 'the grind' and 'hustling'-- all words I'm so over right now [serious valley girl tone there] because at the end of the day, even if your resume has a bazillion things on it, you're still juggling knives. 

I decided to make moves toward cutting back on my commitments in favor of committing more wholeheartedly to the ones that will help enrich my spirit, not just my resume. 

Besides managing your workaholic-ism, how do you practice self-love?