Feature Image: Portuguese Rowing Boat (paint first, no sketching)
Ever since my mum passed away, I haven’t really felt like blogging.
I haven’t really felt like doing much of anything to be honest.
The only activity I had a passion for, was drawing. I could lose myself in a blank page, and not join the real world again until that blank space was filled with lines and colour. Then I could happily turn over the page and lose myself in another blank space. (I even created a cartoon strip to help me process my grief)
When we sold our Turkey home I thought that I could embrace a completely nomadic lifestyle. One with no fixed abode. I thought I could. But it turns out that losing my mum and having no home was just too much nomaditicy for one girl to handle.
I felt like an old wooden rowing boat without oars, bobbing about at the mercy of the waves. Directionless.
We temporarily settled back into Los Angeles while we worked out what our next move was, but that city has changed so much.
It was odd to be back in Culver City where I spent 17 years community back and forth to work. The familiarity of the environment was a steadying influence (I could see my old workplace from my bedroom window) and I liked being in the thick of the metropolis with everything I needed on my doorstep. But I knew this city would never be home again, and it was just a temporary port in the storm.
When the Turkey house sold, we fully intended to relocate to another part of the country. Somewhere quieter, where the influx of city dwellers wasn’t so rife. A place that reminded us of the Turkey we’d fallen in love with. Laid back, with a gentle rhythm to daily life. Top pick was Datca. So I rented a storage facility in Bodrum, and moved furniture and our belongings into it pending our return.
Somewhere along the way plans changed. It wasn’t a sudden change. An epiphany. A bolt of inspiration. It was a gentle evolution of thought that steered us towards Portugal. I have no idea why we hadn’t thought of it before, but once the decision was made. It was full steam ahead to get a visa.
Maybe it’s not a wise move to make life-changing decisions after the loss of a (much-much) loved one. But the house was sold, and belongings were in storage before the loss. So a decision had to be made.
I’ve read a lot about grief. It never goes away. Apparently your life grows around it. And the new memories you made can create a buffer to absorb the grief.
What better way to build a buffer – than to plan something completely different and new.
A distraction.
A major distraction.
Move to a country neither of us has ever been too before.
That’s what I call a major “fuck it!” moment. Time to roll the dice and see what happens.
