Escape Artist

I’ve been avoiding reality.

My drugs of choice? Books and television.

The Harry Potter movies. The Hunger Games Trilogy. The entire six seasons of How I Met Your Mother (thank you Netflix). The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (the book, not the movie … although I don’t have plans for this afternoon). Doctor Who (again). I’ve immersed myself in a land of make-believe. Escapism to the extreme.

I imagine it’s similar to morphine – dulling your senses, numbing the pain and if not controlled, addictive. But right now, it’s nice to take on the problems of these characters and avoid my own. I am returning to Minneapolis on Wednesday and I am not looking forward to the times ahead. I am leaving the cats in the company of my parents while I couch surf for a few weeks until I can move into a more permanent place.

The nomad lifestyle has never called to me. I never backpacked through Europe or Southeast Asia. I am a settler, a nester. I like to make a place my own, get to know it, spend some time with it. So, to return to Minneapolis without a place of my own is, well … unsettling. Luckily, I’ve made friends in my time there who have generously opened up their homes to me and for that I am forever grateful.

Moving forward is always difficult. Especially when you’ve been dragged off your course by forces beyond your control. I think that is what I am most angry about. Having to change the direction of my life without having made the decision about it. Without having the time to plan for it. Without having everything settled.

To some it might not seem like so much of a shift. I still have my same job, I’ll still live in the same neighborhood, I’ll still have my friends and family. Life goes on, the same as always. Except it’s not the same. I am not the same.

I don’t know who I’ll be. I’m not sure that I want to know. Until I do, I am going to go back to the land of make-believe where my mind is silent and my heart is numb. And that’s unsettling too.

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