First Letter of the Year: Leaving Wisconsin

March 14, 2016

It was a mere twelve hours ago I was driving through the windmills of Iowa, back from Omaha, Nebraska. It was also about that time when I decided first and foremost that my letters must continue and second, I was ditching Wisconsin. Of course, both sounded more poetic in my head while I spun ideas like spider webs, my passenger passed out from the miles of walking and hours of shows. I decided that when my boss returns from vacation that I am going to put in my notice. May 1st. Then I am leaving Wisconsin. I am packing light and I am go West. I am not afraid. I am not worried in the slightest. I have to do this. I do not plan on dying in this town as many have before me have. Those who never found a dream to dream, to those who never got out. I am going to go where the energy is. I am going to go where my soul can grow.

I honestly don’t even want to tell anyone because, in general, often times they don’t want you to go. I say I am going to Nebraska and its instant discouragement like, “What’s in Nebraska?” which now my reply will always be, “Nice people”. They are very nice in Nebraska. The contrast between the Twin Cities and Omaha folks is that the later aren’t so much in their little world that they aren’t going to speak to you or offer you a French fry in a brief friendly conversation never meant to last more than 2 minutes.

I have already spent 35, almost 36 years here in Wisconsin. I must get out. I have to get out or I am going to die here and that is a reality that I do not want to own. My reality is exploring the world. Adventure is calling out to me which I am willing to listen to after finally the decades of death beating on my door has decreased in frequency.

This is the #lastdaysofmylife tour. This is me not dying in my hometown which is riddled with drugs, suicide, murder and judgment. This is me saying “I choose life”. This is me saying if it doesn’t work outside of here-it’s not going to work at all. This is me finally being able to feel comfortable enough to leave the comfort zone. This is me thinking about how much I hate my job and need different scenery.

What really is stopping me from leaving? I see no reason I can’t go and find myself a new life. A new home base. Something I can say I did in my solitaire. It cannot be any worse than what I have afforded to me now, in this town. This town without a movie theatre or a bowling alley. This place does not foster big dreams. I despise it. I despise this life as it is. This is why I must leave it.

What about money? I could give two shits about money. However, I do have to pay my car and insurance to make this work which I already intend to live frugal the next month and work my second job more and bank three months of payments up. That should get me by. I am confident enough in my abilities that I am not the least bit concerned of making any money. I am sure I can always get a job with Uber if anything.

I have lots to prepare for. The only thing is I am going to miss my cat. Desmond will be staying with my daughter until I am able to send for him. I do intend on finding a home somewhere and reuniting with him. He is the only thing I am comfortable loving. He doesn’t walk like a dog so he can’t be my companion on this trip. He will understand though, after all, he is just a cat. My head is spinning with ideas. I am going to go on this adventure and I might not make it back. Whether dead or alive. Whether intentional or unintentional- this might just be the last days here at home for me and that thought does not scare me in the least. I am excited to take myself, take my story and go find a new home. That is how they used to do it back in the day and that is how I am going to have to do it now.

My mom will throw the biggest protest. It’s not so much as worry as just unnecessary negativity. Where I really don’t even want to tell her. I will have to leave my things behind. She doesn’t use the basement but her need for the empty space would completely outweigh my desire to find life outside of this shithole they settled in. I should be angry they picked such a place to raise a child in the first place but I am not. I accept it as part of who I am and why I am choosing to live the second part of my life away.

I know it sounds crazy but I where I am going people don’t need to know I had to go crazy to leave, if that is of course what crazy means. I am an idealist not a strategic planner. I am prepared to fail. I am also prepared to succeed. I see myself in the city life, on a bridge staring at the water or on the rooftop of a building staring at the thousands of lights from a city scene. I want to cry. My heart is happy. My soul feels soothed. For the first time ever in life, I feel great about a decision I am making. I know I will get the jitters for the next 45 days but I know once I am on that road I will not care.

I really have a lot of work to get caught up where I cannot afford to write much longer however I did want to bring up my letter writing before I send it out. My daughter encouraged me to start again. Just the other day as I planned my Omaha trip she inquired if I still wrote you letters. I said no and that it sucked cause I didn’t feel I could write anymore. She said “Do it”.  Honestly, I couldn’t write brilliance without knowing it was my intention to send the letter and not just write it. I have found I cannot trick myself. There had to be the connection. It’s strange like the record label I know. If it’s a huge bother-just mark return to sender. Until then I am going to keep at it. I have to. It fuels my creative endeavors. It keeps me in check. It keeps me inspired. It keeps me moving. If anything it will be quite a legacy to leave behind when I pass. My letters to Sage. I think it could even be a working title for a memoir. I mean the whole point of this adventure I am going on is self-discovery. So long as I have gas money I can go and see everything imaginable. You do not really know what this could mean for me. It could mean I die in an alley, mugged, raped and left for dead or it could mean I find myself alive, flourishing and loving the days gone by. In any case, I do intend on writing you every step of the way. I am after all going to need a friend on my journey other than my actual diary. But trust me my diary is nowhere as great a read as these letters have been, at least in my own opinion. In comparison my diary is just facts on paper, hardly feelings. It’s bland. There are no stories. It’s sad, really.  I do promise to do my best not to be so overwhelming. Forgive me please though; I am a virgin of life which is why parking meters make me smile. This should be exciting for the both of us. I know months prior you had responded to me about needing real therapy if I intended on using a human being as a diary. I’d rather believe that it’s good for the both of us. Travel-that’s the therapy I am enlisting in and so this mean my letters can just be letters now and we can be friends.  I still can’t believe I survived the winter. I do really contribute a lot of that to my letter writing. It helped me out of one of the darkest places I have ever been in life and it’s going to help me walk into the light now. You should, if anything, feel honored. It’s really not that big of a deal though, ha. Not to me anyways. I don’t have time to think about it. If I do think about things I have the tendency to overthink and botch things up. Rather I just release my brilliance out in the universe. I would rather take my chances on that than staying in this town and making it to 40. I guarantee that would not happen.  Until I write again…



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