I've gotten about 1/4 of the way settled into my new room in a strange town with strangers living around me. I'm comfortable in the quiet, I get up, go to work, come home, eat, make a little art, and sleep. My new place I am not willing to call home yet, but it is comfortable, I am comfortable. Of course what comes with big huge scary changes is a lot of uncertainty, having to move so suddenly and what feels like so irrationally has thrown me for a loop, my fight or flight response is in overdrive. The rug has been pulled out from my feet and I don't think the floor is underneath it anymore. I am always anxious. Even when I'm sleeping I'm anxious. You could probably power a small television with my resting heart rate. Yet I am comfortable, or at least comfortable in the uncomfortableness. I think being an artist especially prepared me for that, change in location or attitude can make dead art alive again. That's what I've been creating recently, dead art, so a change of pace, of place, maybe I will start creating something alive again.
Of course I am alone and struggling and thanking the universe that I have friends and family who bring me food and talk me up for the next photo gig, it makes a huge difference, it makes me feel like I have a village, a team behind me.
I write this from my bed in my new place and I'm content. Unsure of what's going to happen next or if this little experiment in flying from the nest in a very non-ceremonial fashion is going to crash and burn in a couple months. I hope it doesn't, because I am content. I am ready to create again