fast track

It is coming up on three years that I have been away from what I consider home. On the 15th of June three years ago I began this journey. There have been numerous ups and downs, laughs and cries, celebrating and mourning, smiles and tears. All of this time was served with no real purpose in mind besides seeing the world. It seemed ideal to leave Portland when I did especially after the mortgage crisis hit. I craved the chance to fill up my passport with stamps, to be a part of the conversations of world travelers; to say, I have been there.
I know that I am near the end of this journey because I can't hack it any more. It's not that I haven't tried to survive, I have. I have fought battles that should have sent me running home to my parents house with my tail between my legs. I have won some of these battles and lost others by great defeat. But I am still standing. There were days when I was standing on top of the world and could retain this life forever. The majority of time has been spent wondering what the hell I was doing and when it would actually pay off. I thought this summer would be my payoff, a chance to actually know what I was doing when it came to my schedule at the airline. The economy has been the airline enemy, and thus my seniority has remain stagnate. There are no new hires and the senior mamas can't retire because they have lost their retirement in the recession. I remain still on reserve and will probably do so for the next few years. I can see how this job would be amazing once you had a line, once you could control your life and your schedule. But my fingers are slipping one by one from the bar of sanity with this job.
The inability to commit to offers from friends, dates, or events have now turned into not even being asked as I never know an answer. And if I do say yes, it is not definite until I actually at the activity. I have let down and disappointed friends and myself numerous time with no malice. It took me a while to figure it out and I thought I was just feeling sorry for myself because no one was asking me to do anything. They had given up I learned, and I can't blame them. Any relationship is hard with this job, even a friendship with a flight attendant who understands takes so much effort to retain. I had a couple of boyfriends while on this journey and if your a blog reader, you know what happened to those. I am a loner here, and that doesn't fit my personality. I need friends, I need parties to attend, events to be asked to. But I have also realized that I need to make more of an effort in getting out there and making sure people know I am available. There is a fine line with stocker however that needs to be considered.
Money is always an issue no matter where you live, how much or how little you have, it always causes anxiety. Simply put: New York is expensive. I have found ways to survive on dollars a day but still it's New York, every once and a while you need to enjoy it.
Something my therapist said many months ago when I could justify $90/hr to go just hit home. I am so glad I took my tips and went to see someone because I had so many underlying issues that I never thought about. Her words were kind, wise, and sometimes not what I wanted to hear but they are embedded in me. She explained to me that being a flight attendant and living in New York was not one thing, it was two lives being lived simultaneously. I could split them up at any time. I didn't get it forever and then it just clicked the other day. At first I attributed this genius to myself but remembered Mary had said that ages ago. I don't like my job. There is maybe 5% in the past couple of months that I have enjoyed. Obviously the layover. The getting to work, the checking in, the airport alert, the getting in trouble with the only supervisor that seems to care about things, the working and catering to passengers, the working with random people whom you hope to like and get along with, the being forced to stay awake when the body screams for sleep, the having to wake up in the middle of the night and putting a smile on your face even though coffee is no where in sight, the toil on the body in bloat and bad skin, the wondering, "where the hell will I be tomorrow". It's too much, it's too much to pay for the reward of getting a good trip every once in a great while.
New York and I are in love. We have a fantastic relationship but it is a relationship non the less. We get in arguments and I wondering how I got here and how long I will have to put up with it's shit but I love it through out. My living situations have not been the best since coming out here but that is not NYs fault. It's nobodies fault, it is just me trying to find an economic niche. A home away from my Portland home, my perfect loft. And that is the issue, I have never taken one foot out of Portland, I was on my tip toes when I had reliable renters but I have always had an anchor more than just my friends. The best months I spent in NY were those six months after Christina alone on the UWS. I wish so much that I was back there and that I had never left. I wish money didn't have to dictate where I lived. I thrived in NY then and periods afterwards but not to that extent. I know that I have moved around to try and regain footing in this city but nothing has worked and at the end of the day money takes me back home. I could sell my loft but it hurts my heart to think about giving up the proudest thing I have ever accomplished. If I sold the loft, I could stay in NY and yes, I have thought about it.
So it comes down to this: a home is anywhere you make it. I need a home, that is why I am wondering around the world searching for happiness. Guess what? Home is in my heart, it happiness, it contentment, it will never leave me and all I have to do is nurture it.
My life prior even though great was about stuff, shoes and clothes and where I lived and what events I went to. That is what I wanted when I moved here. I wanted to be popular and have the same relationships and go to parties and be somebody. It took me three years to figure out why I have served this time away from the comfort of the known.

It is to learn this: it is not about what I have, it is about who I am.

The idea seems simple enough but knowing this has opened up a new path for the rest of my time here. It allows me to collect the memories, the experiences, the lessons, the laughter, and take it all into the being that I have become. This growth is not just over the past three years but over the past thirty two, the past three have just been fast tracked into my soul.