2015 – 02/20 – 

Today was the day I moved. I left behind my dream place to move into the city to be closer to my mom and work. It was heart-wrenching to go. I had built a life for myself in Rockport. It was home. I was part of this wonderful seaside village and I had to let it all go. The amount of sacrifice already was overwhelming and it just kept mounting. I felt like I was getting buried under the weight of it all. Luckily, I was moving to an apartment that belonged to someone very close to me. I would not be all alone in the city, but I would not be able to walk out my door onto the dock, would not be able to see the sun rise above the bay in the morning. I was heartbroken. This picture was shot right before I left, tears streaming down my face.


This was my apartment before I packed it up. Now all my possessions were in boxes, most of my furniture sold or given away, my apartment would just be a shell when I left. This was one of the hardest days of all. I was so happy in Rockport. I had so many wonderful memories, so many friends, I had a purpose there and I was saying goodbye to all of it.


All too soon my boxes were packed in the truck and I was on my way to the city, to a multitude of changes I wasn’t sure I was ready for. My cat who I had for such a long time, who had been with me through so much over the years, was now at my son’s house. She wasn’t allowed at the apartment in the city. It was just one more huge loss for me. I’m crying now remembering it all. Nothing would ever be the same again.

I garnered my strength and somehow got on the road and drove out of town, on to a new life. I was not totally prepared for what awaited me. I moved all my boxes up the stairs, they were all loaded into the kitchen along with the small bit of furniture I had brought. Then it was time to see my new room. This was much more of a shock than I expected. The room was small, more of a hall than a room. The walls were painted dark gray, the room felt cold and lonely. It was more of a cave than a room and it felt like a cell. My full size futon would not fit the width of the room, so it was squeezed up on the edges. I didn’t know how I was going to do this, didn’t know how to go from a bright, sunny apartment on the ocean to a cold, dark, dreary room in the middle of the concrete and noise of the inner city.

I begged to paint the room. My life was already cold and dark enough at this point. I could not live in a room that mirrored that. Home needed to be a place for respite and rejuvenation, a place to heal and build my strength back up to deal with the day-to-day which was overwhelming at this point. I was grateful it was ok for me to paint because that room was SO depressing I couldn’t stand it. I wasted no time, folded up furniture that there was no space to move and I got to work. I needed to make this room mine and this darkness was the opposite of me. Thank goodness I could make that change because I feel if it was left this way I would have called down a dark abyss I might never have escaped.

I chose a very bright light sandy color that I hoped would make the space feel bigger and make it feel more relaxing and hopeful and less dreary and depressing. When the painting was done, I set things up a little differently and it felt much better than it did. It was still a tiny space but it felt much more livable than the cave it formerly was. 

The room was still tiny, and the futon still took up the whole room when it was open, but at least when it was in there lengthwise the mattress wasn’t squished up at the ends, which was very uncomfortable. The room was looking better already and I was starting to feel more positive about it. Once my things were set up better, I felt like maybe it would be more livable. It definitely was a DRASTIC difference having bright paint on the walls!

When the futon was folded up there was space to walk and my mind had started to ease. My tension was starting to lift a bit and I was feeling better about this move. It was a huge change so stress was expected. I wasn’t used to all the constant noise outside. The traffic was never-ending, people talking loudly, yelling, honking, buses driving by, it was all sounds that I never heard in Rockport. I was hoping I would get used to it in time. The window was nice in the room and I think that helped it a lot. There was constant light coming through. 

It wasn’t long before I did away with the futon altogether and built a storage bed for myself that was much more functional for the room. There was an attached area that was possibly a walk-in closet at one time. I made that into my office and storage space. The rest of my things were in a rented storage bin down the street. There was no room for it and it was all stuff that I wasn’t ready to let go of. The storage bin had the added benefit of having space to put whatever I got when I cleaned out my mother’s house as well, so it was worth it. 





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