Good night, bike. Good night, mixer. Good night, moon (-shaped led light).

As I sipped a long-pour of vodka and soda, I listed some things on the facebook garage sale site. I didn't expect it to get so much attention! I woke up to a dozen messages, people wanting appliances, tables, shelves, bikes. One by one I scheduled pick ups, and now I'm about $150 richer. And mourning the loss of my precious stuff. Trying now to take a few moments to think of how my stuff will give others pleasure as it did for me.

The bike, though. That was my form of transportation when I was carless in the late 90's. I spent every evening on the lakefront riding further and further from my home base, till I was able to do the 30-mile Bike the Drive. One summer I logged 1000 miles riding to and from my job in the south Loop. Then, after handing the car over to my ex in the divorce and before selling our home, I rode 15 miles from Rogers Park to my parents' home in Mount Prospect, in a symbolic act of strength in the face of sadness. I listened to Bon Iver and Of Monsters and Men as I made my way west, reversing the trip I had made so many years earlier to settle in the big bad city. It was a pattern I would repeat for the next 3 years, visiting my old haunts for a sense of closure. I took up running and made destinations out of schools I had attended, parks and pools where I'd spent my younger years, the filthy bar where I'd shared my misery with grown-up childhood friends, and homes where I had had my first sleepovers, make out sessions, babysitting gigs, piano lessons. I had a rich and rewarding childhood. I loved being able to relive some of my greatest memories when I was so deeply saddened about the course my life had taken in my 30's.

About 7 months ago I decided to wrap up the old days. As my daughter's godfather reminded me today, the times, they are a changin'. It's time to make some new memories and let the old ones stay in the past, to patina and gather dust. Soon I'll feel a pull to explore new words, and to give my daughter all the joys I never knew as a child.

The deed is done

And today is part deux, telling Christina and the others about my departure. Michael was my moral support this week as I began dreading the conversation about leaving the company. He was right, it does feel so good to be on this side of it. I gave my friend Dan an early heads up, and realized that he too has been feeling disenfranchised. I sincerely hope that he finds empowerment as I did and makes his own path toward happiness. He is so close, but lets his guilt hold him back.

The technical skills I learned at JOI are numerous. The interpersonal skills I learned will serve me well. But the trauma of never being fully able to express my frustration will haunt me forever. Before I came to JOI I had never even heard of codependency. Now I know it intimately because of having been surrounded by people whose tendencies toward this unhealthy behavior were fully realized in an environment of manipulation and power struggles. In recent years I've had the fortune of seeing myself and my situation from an outsider's perspective. Had I started out that way, I would have built the proper boundaries to protect myself from the damage caused by others' jealousies, resentments, scheming. But I chose to dive in, even married into the JOI employee family. I wanted acceptance and I wove myself into the tapestry of Oppenheimer history, gilded as it was by intellectual attitudes and waspy superiority. And once in, I became aware of who knew what, how we were all being led where they wanted us, how this was one huge narcissistic game and we were the pawns.

Fast forward 14 years and here I am, making one  of my final commutes into the city that I used to love. Looking back on how this experience changed me. How on the one hand, my first day with this company coincided with meeting the man I would marry and with whom I would have my only child, and how I wouldn't trade that gift for anything in the world. But how on the other hand, my former director, a clinical sociopath who admitted that she envied my success as a mother and professional, distorted my perception of this business and of my capabilities as an art restorer. She did everything in her power to take away what happiness I took from this job, denying me opportunities for growth and travel. Because of Zoe," I was told I could not travel for work, in spite of my explicit requests to help out on overnight jobs which would have greatly empowered me in my career development. Today, however, I am enjoying the humble achievements of a 20 year stint in the art business, embarking on a bright future with a clear conscience, having only risen higher in my mind's eye in spite of her repeated attempts to drag me down.

Mercurious

I heard that Mercury is retrograde, and in transit across the sun today. Scientists say this affects us zero percent from a physics standpoint. But dammit, I'm feeling so fucking off today. The train was late, my old comfy shoes gave me blisters, no one said a word to me at work, I'm paranoid, craving salt, tired, listless. All the bright, positive energy I had last week is gone. I had trouble even remembering what I did when I left town. Maybe it's just latent stress. It will pass, it always does. I wish I could curl up and sleep till it's over.

The tension was getting to me

I had the best laugh with my best friend yesterday, combined with the best cry and followed by the best buzz and the best pig out dinner. It's funny how in the face of anxiety, it is sometimes (but usually not) so easy to turn the page and see all the truly worthwhile rewards ahead. I need to get back into my running practice because I need this in my life every day; "I'm struggling to breathe and everything hurts right now, but wait, look over there, is that a life affirming view of a cloud or a mountain or a dolphin, presented in front of me for no other reason than I deserve to partake in something beautiful and magical? And wasn't I just in pain a minute ago? Because it's all better now." Being on the end of that statement sure beats being on the front of it. Two days ago I was ready to close the door on a year's worth of effort to make a positive change for Zoe and me. Anyway, all that matters is we are back on track. Let the moving begin.

Pizza (and beer)

Cause for celebration! The con artist didn't get my money. I am grateful beyond words! The bank reversed my wire transfer and I have 2100 back, which makes the whole prospect of moving a little easier!

We're celebrating with pizza!

I have an appointment to see through Ann's eyes the apartment of my dreams! Or at least the only one that called back with a vacancy. This time tomorrow I might be registering my new address!

One intervention and one don't let the door hit you on the ass

I couldn't be myself yesterday. I was lying awake at 3 am trying to make sense of the pushing and pulling I felt while my brother's wife made hints at how we weren't ready for a move. There are two of you now, she reminded me. (Which is a hell of a lot better than three?) I don't really know what she meant, except that I might be rushing into this. For the last 2 years. Sending dozens of resumes and reaching out to the masses who would receive me with open arms. I tried to explain that I'm not as naive as it seems. The loss of Zoe's weekend visits with her dad is literally the least of my concerns. She'll be surrounded by dads and brothers and grandpas of the highest quality. Not to mention she'll have her mom available (hopefully) more often. And mountains. And peace. Sometimes it feels like I've never had the chance to be in charge. And that's what drives me more than anything. Too many people meddling and telling me how to do shit.

And then Michael brought my bike back. Seeking closure, seeking a clean break and last wishes of good luck. Acting like a plastic fake-smiling version of himself. Hints that he would like to pick up and leave too, but reassurance that soon he'll move to the city where he always wanted to be. Maybe a different city. He wanted me to know he wouldn't miss me when he gets where he's going.

I'm in here, my spirit is alive whether I'm wanted or missed or forgotten entirely. It craves the sunlight and magnetic energy of a mountain range, the electricity of others feeding on that sweet air. It just feels like it's been slain, pruned and excised from the family garden. Perhaps I was not a native species after all, I might have always belonged somewhere else. I thrived for a time, but conditions are no longer ideal and I'm withering here.

If I stay here, trouble will find me.

The opposite of bliss

I wasn't prepared for how many letdowns I would face in the midst of moving. On some level I am grateful, because I had always been so naive about this. I thought it would be just like leaving for college. You sign the lease, they're like, great, you're in, and you show up with your carfull of clothes and your comforter and start taping posters to the wall.

The first letdown was the worst. I had a garden unit picked out, in a quiet out of the way neighborhood, had everything we needed and more. But. Unbelievably. It didn't exist. And I lost a paycheck and then some because I fell 1000% for a scam.

Then there was the very short-lived dream of using my equity to buy a little condo near downtown. As soon as the loan officer got to the part about employment, I knew this wasn't going to happen. Naturally you are required to have steady employment to get a $150000 loan. I won't be employed for at least a month because I brilliantly decided to leave a perfectly good job to live without an income in one of the wealthiest places in the country.

And then there's Amy. She sounded so promising, with her little ranch for rent, not as close as I'd like, but very homey and the most appropriate setting yet for a 4th grader and her mom. She hinted that she needed to do some upgrades, and that it would be worth it if she had a longer term renter in the wings. I said, yes, we would be renting at least a couple of years... Nope, sorry, not gonna work, she says. No can do.

Today I'm back to looking at tiny 1 br apartments with no amenities. Still promising, but no idea if they'll rent to a single mom with no income. And nobody will meet me on the mid-month move in.

Can I please give up?

I was watching the movie Unbroken last night. The line that the main character told himself was "if I can take it, I can make it." It started out as his brother's urging to outrun his track opponents. Then it helped him survive weeks at sea after his plane crashed in the Pacific Ocean. Then years of brutal abuse in a POW camp in Japan. (Then my laptop battery ran out of juice so who knows what else he endured. Leprosy? Identity theft? I guess he could endure about anything.)

So as I sit here on this bright sunny Saturday morning, feeling so warm and safe and nestled, I feel like I've had to take so much, and yet I haven't even given anything up yet. The worst is yet to come, and I'm starting to think that the outcome can't be any better than sitting here in utter peace with my surroundings and situation. I'm starting to think there is no "better" or "worse" way of living. Only different. And does it really do any good to throw all the puzzle pieces up in the air every 5 years and figure out the big picture all over again? Just to end up with the same picture? And an aching head from all the pieces I've misplaced?

This is insanity. The definition of insanity.