So. We’re moving back to Atlanta.
I gave it some deep thought. I want the people who make my life miserable, consistently, to stay out of my life. But I can do that with less isolation.
It’s too early. My farmhouse in the woods on top of a mountain will be waiting for me someday. For now, I’ll exist. And I’ll find new people to talk to that don’t make my stomach churn. I’ll reconnect with friends I adored and permanently get rid of anyone else.
I’ve learned to keep people I once blocked on my block list. To not give boring men an audience. I may have lost some of my greater social skills but I’ve gained the motivation to write again, the ability to see where my problems are, and clarity. I gained a bit of peace here.
Alabama has done well for me. And now we make the plans to go back to the hell that is Atlanta. But maybe this time it won’t be a hell.
Maybe this time I will pay more attention to being well than I do to fitting into some puzzle I can’t figure out.