On Saturday, February 7th, I parted ways with my former apartment on West 4th Street, where my Los Angeles neighborhood was never fully determined–not quite Downtown, not quite Historic Filipinotown, not quite mine. My heart and mind were laden with strangely peaceful misgivings about my next moves as a person who is now officially homeless. I spent a week pouring all of my energy into scouring every square inch of that space to leave the place better than how I found it. I suppose that was my way of gracefully letting go of something no longer meant for me.
I made the decision to leave my apartment when I watched as the financial dominoes continued to fall amidst the aftershock of my horrific accident. I knew this was coming; a person cannot possibly maintain the lifestyle she is accustomed to when a full-time job is no longer in play. I am not alone in my current state, as many of my friends and others less known adhere to the “struggling artist” lifestyle of couch-surfing. I am fortunate and blessed to have a strong enough support system wherein I do so much as sneeze and a friend or acquaintance is standing right next to me, offering a tissue–or in my case, a place to rest my head at night. I do not quite know what I would do if it were not for the bewildering kindnesses and unconditional love I experience every single day from these angelic forces for good.
This post marks the first in my brief blogging history where the writing feels more like heavy lifting for me. I am saddened that I left a place where I discovered sobriety and where I met the cast of characters who became the authors of my laughter for nearly two years. After a very difficult struggle against my own demons to find a sense of belonging and a safe place (read: cute apartment in a fabulous city), the last thing I wanted to do was leave. I am happy to report, however, that my sense of safety and security has returned after its brief sojourn. Thanks to the tireless love and affection sobriety provides me through my spiritual support network, I am able to edify the home in my heart, which allows me to be mobile now more than ever.
As I reflect upon my latest and most obvious experience of complete powerlessness, I am reminded of my most favorite quote by the inimitable Muhammad Ali (and countless other wise men and women): “Service to others is the rent you pay for your room here on Earth”. My Higher Power has testified yet again on my account that my purpose at this time is to be spiritually fit in order to help other people to keep the focus off of self-pity and discouragement. While the rent for my former apartment was unaffordable to my weakened wallet, I can rest easily knowing that I can, at the very least, afford to pay my rent here for room on Earth.