Just a few more nights

Few More Nights

As straightforward as it seems, seeing my stuff be sold bit by bit is quite painful. The whole time I kept thinking I want to find someone who would appreciate them. How they cared for me or made me feel secure. How I was able to use them to build a secure life for myself. And as I sold each one, they turn into dollar bills. And maybe that's what makes it more profound because I can touch the bills. And it's almost like - I'm converting each safety and comfort that I've built into endless possibilities. The way that I would use these USD to convert to Japanese Yen later makes me happy in a way. It's like, in a weird way - the item is giving back to me. An experience, a souvenir, whatever it might be. But it's a conversion. And I think money is like that - the energy of money that once allowed me to have a safe and secure routine will now transform itself into adventure and experience. And I'm the one giving in the emotion by using it. Through the joy, comfort, boredom, discontent, excitement - it's all there. 

I'm grateful for a buyer named Erin who understood what it's like to move and basically paid for all my stuff since it mutually benefits us both. I wouldn't have been strong to do this 5 years ago. I'd rather just leave it all behind the way it is and pay the fee because I didn't want to see it 'touched' and changed before I leave. But right now it's slowly changing before I go and that's a lot harder. 

It reminds me of how hard it was to fully let go of my apartment back in Toronto, and I had to find people to sublet it so I can potentially get it back once I'm ready to move back to the city. When even my TV was to be taken on Monday (meaning I can't watch through it Monday night before my flight on Tuesday) - it made me think wow - it's like the intensity of letting go of 438 Richmond again but instead of the condo and area that I love, it's all my stuff that I've adored and cherish in this city. There are still parallels about it. 

Last Night 

Tonight is my last night. No more bed, no more tv console, no more tv. Just me and my airbed and still a lot of stuff that I have no clue what to do with at this point. I feel quite numb and frustrated. I'm not looking forward going to Vancouver since I keep thinking that I'd have to defend myself and my choices. Not that my friends aren't supportive there, I just always feel like there's a resistance or lack of understanding because of the perspective and experiences we've had in life and how different they are from each other. 

I'm not really looking forward to losing my independence again and solo-living. Not being able to predict what people say and/or do, and may disturb me gives me pressure in my chest. I mean I also know that I want to feel connection so that's something I know I'd compromise on sooner or later. But I do find myself dreary just thinking about it. 

One of the most confusing yet powerful way that I comfort myself is remembering the concept of death during these times. Not the idea that we can die at anytime or that I want to do so. It's more the intimate relationship we all have with death. That in one way or another - live whatever you want - we'll all end up there. And because of this, I find that I live my life without trying to waste as much time in situations that I end up regretting later on. Or I can't fully suppress anything that would make me feel included in society but make me feel already dead inside. 

It doesn't mean that I'll spend every penny the next day either. On the contrary, I'm quite happy to be patient and save money for a house or a goal in the future. But what death signifies for me is that I don't mind doing that as long as it aligns to whatever or whichever choices make me feel actually alive and authentic.