I paid the deposit today on my new room, February rent, and I also paid for the two extra days that I am getting to be there.

When I handed Aurora the money, she counted it out and said, “I get you change”.

I said, “no, that extra is for you letting me rent the room before the 1st”.

She did not quite understand.  I was giving her more money.  She wanted to give me change.  Part of me really wanted her to give me change too.  The other part of me, that part that wants change of a different sort, said, I figured out the difference and added that in.  Thank you for letting me move in two days early.

I could actually move in tomorrow.  But I said no.  I need to wait until Sunday.  Plus, the room still has construction materials strewn about, the last touches are being put on the bathroom and there are tools and implements laying around, and I want to move into a fresh, new space.

A small, fresh new space.  Eek.  It’s a lot smaller than I remember.  But, it will hold my bed and it will accommodate a desk and it has a brand new big bathroom.  It is just perfect.

The elementary school across the street is also perfect.  As I stood in the waning late January light waiting to be let into the house, I listened to the laughter of the children running around the playground and I felt uplifted.

Scared.  Nervous.  But in the right place.

Overwhelmed.  But in the right place.

I don’t know how long I will be there.  I am saying that because it does not feel like a permanent residence.  But it is obvious to me that it is the next place I am supposed to be.  And I will make it my home for as long as I am supposed to.  Just like my job.  I don’t actually believe that I will be working in a bike shop the rest of my life, but it is exactly where I am supposed to be right now.

I am grateful to be just living life.  Simple.  Uncomplicated.  Work in the Mission.  Live in the Mission.  Go have a coffee at Philz.  Which is exactly what I did after I left my new place.

I went to Philz, had a large Canopy of Heaven with cream, no sugar, and sat and ate the dinner that I had packed up for myself.  I read over a newspaper and enjoyed the hell out of my coffee.

I left my bicycle at the shop, one less thing to move, and I walked around the Mission before meeting lady Beth at the Church St. Cafe.  We had tea and caught up.  God, I am so lucky to have amazing girl friends.

I missed my ladies this week, so it was really nice to sit and get caught up.  And it’s really nice to be myself, slightly neurotic, silly, and out there.  A wee bit self-deprecatory and sarcastic.

We talked about how we never see ourselves as we are.  So true.  I was feeling a little cheap and trashy and tawdry today.  I left the house feeling pretty darn cute and liking the frock I was rocking and the hair and make up and then the other gal at the shop walked in and I went right to I will never look like that ever.

I will not be that polished, put together, or small.

Uh duh.  Of course not, because I’m six inches taller.

Fact is, I don’t want to be her, but it’s an easy way for me to take out my insecurities and unpack them all over the shop when I work with her.  She’s just so, perfect.


Honesty says, look at the facts, ladybug, you are perfect too.  An ever evolving art work.  Ever changing, ever-growing.  I am grateful beyond words that I am not stagnating.  And Beth is spot the fuck on.  We never see ourselves the way others do.

I ever hear you saying things about yourself that I say about me, I’d sit you down and have a serious heart to heart talk with you about how special and amazing you are.  I am not always capable of doing that for myself.

But, that’s ok, as I am a lot better at it then I used to be, so much better at it then I used to be.

It is what’s inside that matters.  It is how I comport myself in the world that matters. It is giving Aurora the correct rent.  It is asking for help when I need it.

Right now I am struggling with not manipulating and asking for what I need.  The friends who were originally lined up to help me move on Sunday are no longer available.  I know I could get the whole job done on my own with no help.  I have done it before.  But I also know that I can ask for help.

I posted to FaceBook.  That will probably not work very well, but I am getting it out there.  I have also sent out a message to some guys I know that I am keeping my fingers crossed may be able to lend a hand.

I will be asking around tomorrow as well.  I hate asking for help, but what I am beginning to realize, is that I also don’t like myself when I am not being direct with my needs.  I caught myself being manipulative about needing help moving earlier and it made me so uncomfortable.

I am currently practising having acceptance of the behaviour in hopes that acknowledging that I do it and accepting that I do it, will allow me to walk through the fear of believing that I am not worthy of being helped.

Through the falsehood that no one likes me.  And through the garbage strewn landscape of my diseased brain.  Poor little brain.  You are just working it over time.  I hereby grant you a reprieve, little guy.  I will pick up the reigns and suck it up and ask for help.  I will accept that I do not know how to do it alone and regardless of my fears, it will all get done.

I do not need to manipulate it into happening.


Practising it makes me feel extraordinarily vulnerable and free all at the same time.

I am scared I won’t like my new home.  I am scared I made a mistake.  I am afraid.

There.  Now that’s all out there, let’s get a move on.

It’s time I got off the couch.

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