Where you are is where I belong?

I’ve realized recently that I never settle anywhere. There’s always boxes. Opened and unopened, just boxes everywhere.
I’ve never stayed in one place for very long. The longest was four years, and there is still a box in the corner of the bedroom. Unpacked, and just sitting there. When I do unpack, I never put things away completely. Doing so would mean I’m staying, and I have no reason to believe that I’m staying anywhere. Why unpack when my life is so unsettled? I haven’t learned to unpack. In real life, or my mind.
I’d really like to, though.

I’d like to have a home. A place where I can feel safe and know that I’ll be there for a while. I want to hang things up in the closet and put clothes in drawers and feel like it’s finally my place to be. Not the usual unsettling feeling that it’s temporary, and I have to be ready for my Plan B, which doesn’t really exist. There is no Plan B. In fact, my Plan B is simply fear.

Unpacking is really symbolic for me. Why put things in their place if you don’t have a place there? Every place I’ve moved, I’ve always thought it was permanent, but my heart always told me different. Don’t get too comfortable. The rug could be pulled out from under you. So leave things in boxes. Leave things ready to throw in your car. This won’t last for long.

Well, as uncertain as I am in this life now, I’m going to unpack. I’m not sure if this is permanent, but I’m going to live like it is. Maybe the act of putting things away and making my own space will make it that way. Keeping things in bags and boxes hasn’t done much good for me so far. So I’ll try this.

I am finding where I belong and I’m going to make a place for me here. I deserve it. Finally.

Franny’s John

When I used to go out a lot, I would go to this dark little bar called Franny O’s. I met a man there named John. He was always there, and usually by the time I saw him he was completely wasted. Sometimes though, I’d catch him when he first arrived, and I could hold a conversation with him. He was charming and engaging, but he lost that as soon as he started to drink. As the night progressed, he would sink deeper and deeper into despair. I always saw the charming and engaging part of him though, and that’s what made us friends. I tried to “adopt” him in a way. Like I saw what was good in him and I wanted to help. I couldn’t though, because I was also in my downward spiral, and I couldn’t see it. Much like him.

So a year or so has passed, and I stopped going out, and I never saw him again. But today at work, I was with a client, and I see him walk in. He was wearing a suit and a tie, and I had to do a double take. It hardly looked like the desperate drunk at the bar, that used to offer me shots of J├Ąger and then decline because he couldn’t afford them.

I went out to greet him, and he was taking a break from his new job to come visit me. I sat next to him and he was his charming and engaging self, but it was genuine and real. I asked him if he drinks anymore, and he told me he had his last drink over a year ago, on his way to rehab. “Life just keeps getting better for me,” he said, and it warmed my heart. He asked what was going on with me, and before I could answer, he said, “oh I know Jodie, it’s complicated.” And he was right.

At that moment, I saw what an inspiration he is. He made himself better and he’s flourishing because of his choices. He finally made the right ones. When he left, he gave me a hug, and I could feel his happiness. The new beginning he’s been waiting for. As he left I thought about him, and I thought about me, and if he could take these steps, why couldn’t I? Why can’t I say life is getting better for me, instead of “it’s complicated.”

I guess what I’m trying to say is, Franny’s John was brought into my life for a reason. I’ve seen him at his rock bottom and now I’ve seen him heal. His story is inspiring to say the least, and it leaves me thinking. Maybe I have to rethink my choices. I need to choose the right ones, and I know what they are. The complicated life isn’t for me anymore. I want the life that gets better and better. If he can do it, I can too.

So thank you, Franny’s John. For being what I always thought you could be, and inspiring me to do the same. No more Franny’s John. Now you are simply John, and my friend ­čÖé