Amber's Abode

It is finished! (Because I can)

Two days ago, I did the best thing and took the biggest step of my life so far.  I bought a plane ticket.  On October 26, I'm flying into the sunset.  Literally...

Going toward Arizona, my sunshine and the new life I will find and work to shape and create there.  I'm so excited and scared and every emotion you can possibly feel all at once.  But a long time ago, I made myself a promise that I would find the sun again someday, that I would find my own place to grow.  And I did it.  I did it!  I'm so proud of myself.

So excited to see Daniel again as well, though I'm tired of people smiling and saying that he is my only reason for moving.  He knows I love him, but he's just a really cool bonus in the plan.  I have been planning this since 1991 when I was made to come to the Oregon coast because my dad retired from the military.  I never wanted to leave sunny Alabama, and that's when I made my vow to myself that I would get back to a warmer climate someday.

I've got so much crap to do before I go.  But it will keep me busy so I don't worry too much about what's going to happen.  Because I really don't know what's going to do.  That's part of the adventure.  I know I will probably be without Internet and phone for awhile.  Neither one of those things are common in nursing homes, which is where I will probably temporarily end up while another place is being located.  That is one thing I'm not looking forward to, after having my own space and a comfortable amount of it for a little over a year, but I've done it before, and I can do it again.  They will be able to better care for the catheter in a nursing home anyway, so I will be healthier.

People here seem to be taking it personally that I want to leave their dear city.  I understand why they like it, and I will miss parts of it, parts of life here and I will miss lots of people.  But Portland, even Oregon itself, was never my home.  It just wasn't.  I give it years of trying, working desperately to try to make it feel like home.  But it never did.  Ever.  Not for me.  And I'm finally doing something just for me.

A strange thing, but one that recognizes the soul of an experience collector/writer in me, is that I've started noticing "the lasts." I.e., this is the last time I will eat at this restaurant.  This is the last movie I will rent from Netflix.  And soon it will be the last time I see a friend here, for multiple friends, and the last time I ride the max.  Last poker game, last karaoke night.  That sort of thing.  Some of these make me sad, others make me feel relieved and happy.  I trust myself that I'm definitely on the right path.

But I look forward to more collecting those first things.  Like the first time I've ever flown by myself.  The first meal at home with Daniel, my first meet up with a disability group there, and many many many other things.

A song I keep thinking of is called One-Way Ticket (Because I Can) by either LeeAnn Rimes.

In the meantime, in those immortal red letter words: IT IS FINISHED!  I am done here, I learned all I can from this environment, and I am moving on.  For me.  For the first time in my life, almost, I'm doing something just for me.

And I finally, finally feel like an adult; like I'm growing into the person that I'm meant to be.

If anybody would like to help in my journey, any tips in my jar will help out with expenses like luggage, etc..  Some of you have already helped, and to those people I say thank you very much.  And if you can't use the tip jar, just pray for me.  I need all the positive and calm energy I can get right now.  Thank you.

And now, off to tackle the ever-growing to-do list.  I love you all.

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