Be Careful What You Wish For

A long December, and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last...
If you think that I could be forgiven, I wish you would. - "Long December," Counting Crows

Mother do you think they'll drop the bomb?
Mother do you think they'll like this song?
Mother do you think they'll try to break my balls?
Mother should I build the wall?
Mother should I run for president?
Mother should I trust the government?
Mother will they put me in the firing line?
Mother am I really dying?

Hush now baby, baby, dont you cry.
Mother's gonna make all your nightmares come true.
Mother's gonna put all her fears into you.
Mother's gonna keep you right here under her wing.
She wont let you fly, but she might let you sing.
Mama will keep baby cozy and warm.
Ooooh baby ooooh baby oooooh baby,
Of course mama'll help to build the wall. - "Mother," Pink Floyd



...because you just might get it.

I've posted roughly three or four blog posts in the past 24 hours and have gone through the full range of emotions, from despair to disbelief to terror to joy to a paralyzing combination of them all.

So, last night was New Year's Eve. I'm at KJ's in Eastbumfuck, PA. K was here, her other BF Toya (also a dear friend to me--sweet lady, and just a hoot and a half), and Tory joined us for a raucus evening that included K & I knocking off roughly 5/6 of a fifth of tequila. Goooooooooood tequila--instincts on it were dead-spot-on. It was a kitchen party--food, friends, and a lot of laughs, which is my favorite kind of party. No one was driving, no one was getting stupid, no worries about fights, arguments, or any other kind of drama or stupidity. About the only thing missing was music and dancing, but hey, there were small children sleeping upstairs.

(And one sober adult, so we were safe.)

Well, somewhere around 3:00 a.m., KJ comes back into the kitchen and tells me that I'm quitting my job, packing my shit and moving in with her, here in East Bumfuck, and helping her take care of my godson and getting my shit together.

I remember blinking.

She went on, putting her foot down, making it clear that there was no way she was going to stand by and let me piss my life away for my family any longer. There was no arguing with the woman, and after a couple of minutes for it to sink in that I was not hearing things, that I was not hallucinating, that after all the pain and prayers for deliverance, for just a tiny ray of fucking hope, the benevolent Gods had finally taken a little mercy and granted it in the form of my best friend.

Once I convinced her I wasn't going to argue, I went outside on the back deck and stared up at the stars and cried like a broken child.

I don't really remember too much of the rest of the night. I'm seriously unclear; I don't often get that fucked up (once a year is good for me, and the way my liver and head were hurting this a.m., I think I need to stick to that). I know there was more talk; I know I fell asleep alone and got off before I finally closed my eyes.

Today has not been my best day. Was awakened by the boys being utter little savages (they're five; they're allowed) somewhere around 7; half-slept until 10ish, when three very hungover women dragged their asses out of bed to find Tory in the kitchen making coffee. Bless the man.

He left for work around noon, I went back to bed around half noon, woke up around six a.m. after bad sleep and worse dreams, but feeling a little more human. I sent email to three of my Cabal, to let them know what was going down. We'd talked a little more about it all during the morning, but still... it's so huge.

I can't tell you how conflicted I am. I know that moving is the right thing to do. I need to get the fuck out of Dodge. However... the idea of not having a job, not having insurance, not having a home... freaks me out. Once I leave Hell's Vestibule, there will be no going back. I know this. The house will probably not be in the family much longer, and that is not a bad thing.

There's a lot of reality to face, too. Like what am I going to do without a car of my own. What am I going to do for money--I have zero savings. Should I take a six-month leave of abscence? Does that make ANY sense? Will I want to go back there after being away for six months? Doubtful. Without an academic affiliation, how will I do my research for my writing? (OK, yeah, there is a public library AND K is a prof, but...) What will I do for money?

On the upside... I will be out of Hell's Vestibule. I will not be on 24-hour alert. I will not have to deal with my mother and her needs and daftness.

I will be abandoning her.

I will be being a bad daughter.

I will be taking care of myself. I will be a healthier, saner person. I will have time to find an agent. I will have time to design and build clothing again like I've been itching to. I will have time to launch my etsy store for my odd bits of art and fuckery. I will be able to focus on getting my body and voice back to performance standard. I will get to spend time with my godson, get to bond with him, be a part of his life, and help my best friend.

I will do this; I will leave Boston, even if it's just for six months. I will take care of myself. 2011 will be a better year. Somehow, someway... when you ask the Universe for a sign, for a chance to redeem your life and reclaim it and that call is answered, you can't turn your back on the opportunity.

Fear... fear is a part of my make-up. It's been instilled in me by others. I can find a way through this; I can find a path.

I can be the success I have always dreamed of being. I can do this.

No, I will do this.

With a little help from my friends, cigarettes, Xanax and my peculiar sense of humor.

All good energy, prayers, hope, hugs, etc. gladly accepted.

Happy New Year.