Geographical Changes: Intro

In recovery, there’s an idea that a person may try to escape the unmanageability of their life by attempting a “geographical change.” In other words, they think they can escape their problems by literally leaving them behind. I’ve tried lots of geographical changes. I’ve moved cities, states, even countries and continents for a time being—hoping to start life over with a clean slate. I’ve dreamed of recreating myself, almost like a reincarnation.

I used to latch onto ideas of how geography could redefine me. I could ditch my oversized sorority t-shirts and straightened hair for flannel shirts and loose braids. I could leave the naïve, heartbroken version of me for a wild, reckless one that didn’t need love because she had liquor. I could abandon bare feet mornings in dew-soaked grass to write poetry for high heeled nights in beer-stained bars to flirt with strangers. All I needed was a few suitcases and enough gasoline to get me to my destination.

The problem with a geographical change is that, sooner or later, you realize all your baggage comes with you. You can’t ditch what you don’t like about yourself, tossing it like an empty longneck out the window onto the highway, glass shattering into debris in the rearview. You can’t chop off old patterns like you chop hair into bangs that hide the lines around your eyes.

If you could, I would have. I would have done anything to forget parts of my past.

But now, I choose to write about my past, about the geographical changes I made, dragging along my heavy suitcase full of insecurities and shadows and the things that make me human.

I’ve had lapses from writing. Lapses where I succumb to my “day job” and all the responsibilities of adulthood that seem so hard, even at thirty-six. But I’ve also had nudges from the universe, from “God with skin on,” from those people in my life that see how desperately I want to write. They’ve encouraged me to continue, to find time, to make time. To prioritize THIS, because this need to create is as intrinsic to me as breathing.

So, here we go again. It seems fitting that my next blog post speaks to some of these “geographical changes” I’ve taken over the years. But first, I must begin from where I started: Mississippi. (more to come)