Early on, in B’s and my relationship, we spent a good chunk of a year traveling back and forth across the country. We touched most of the United States, and finished off our 49 state goal this year, when I drove her down to New Orleans.

I had never been to the East Coast. I had never been East of Tennessee, and she was Florida born and Pennsylvania raised. East Coast girl all the way. Except- B isn’t sarcastic, or mean. She’s gentle, and cynical and Southern. She’s one of the Summer People that Thea Elijah talks about- born into the sunshine. Needing to be heated and nourished by her environment.

During our massive amount of time in my Purple-Blue Suzuki, we dreamed up all the dreams for our relationship. We built them pedistals and demanded they stand on them- unchanging, because I was young enough that I believed that’s what dreams did.

I believed her utterly when she said we would come back to Portland for a year, get her massage license, then hit the road jack- don’t you come back, and we’d travel all over the United States, making friends. She and I are incredible at making friends while in movement. Our connection vibrates and infuses a space with opportunity- as long as we kept swimming.

I talked about painting murals in all 50 states. About collaborating with 50 other artists across the country. About making a documentary about our lives- connecting and filming all of the artists we’d already met and the ones around the corner.

My artistic self soared during those moments. My internal free-spirit didn’t have to think or worry about money while I was road tripping with B. I got to just be exactly who I was meant to be, while having great sex, super interesting conversations, regular new interactions with strangers and being pushed completely out of my comfort zone so deeply that All I FELT was Comfortable.

We had our ride or die reality together when I was 26, and she was 30. We were hot, young, weird, and so deeply in love that I felt like our flame would never ever go out. I spent a full five years inflamed and completely obsessed with this gorgeous gremlin woman. And then, according to our relationship lore- I fucked it up. I fucked it all up. And instead of being on fire for each other- we were going down in flames.

Phoenix rising from the ashes. Mural at skatepark in Eugene, Oregon.

I blissed out as we stopped for our roadkill collection. I dreamed while she read me stories in the passenger seat. I believed in absolutely everything about us while we were in motion.

I am an in motion lover. I prefer to have mutable sex, standing up, changing positions, and wiggling around quite a bit. I prefer to have dates with variety. Sitting watching water pass by and dance moving to the sounds of wind in the trees. I prefer my adventures to have stillness and flow, and when I hold still to long- I become dis-eased.

Right now, that’s what’s wrong with me. I’m diseased. I held myself down to long, trying to wait out the inevitable demise of a relationship trying to kill itself with natural poisons.

Now, I have to build myself back up. I have to feed myself the right things. Figure out what those thought factories are: why, when, where, and how to coax my artist child self (who is the one who does all of my work) to see what we’re doing and enjoy where we’re headed.

Wait. That’s wrong.

I am no longer a We.
I am a Me, I, myself.

I am a super, solid, real life artist-woman who is alone. Today however, I am not lonely. I have people who care deeply about me. I have ten real friends who love me in this town alone. I have 15 people I can call whenever I want.

I am going to be ok. I am just not with my muse. I don’t know exactly what to do, but I figure, if not knowing what to do, is at least admitting where I actually am, then, this is something to be done. Sit with this experience. Air out the old baggage. Paint the divorce mural across the wall. Cook for myself. Cook for others. Take a break and browse the reality of the life I am have already lived through.

There will be further opportunities. I will not fall through the cracks of my own consciousness again. I will rise from my own ashes and call myself sacred, as I have always done. I will use writing, art, movement, play, touch and beautiful food to connect my heart to things. But first things first. Relax, breath deeply. Let things go.

I am going to need to learn to be my own muse… but I am going to be ok.

I think that where I am at right now, is exactly where I need to be at. It’s just- it’s so much easier loving someone else, then it is to love myself and make sure my own life gears are well oiled and in working order.

To all of you out there feeling a bit lost right now, I hear you. You are the one thing you will always have. This is a practice in self compassion. We can do this. I can do this. Let’s just keep on, keeping on until life changes, yet again.