States of A

Flying over Alaska. Dec. 2, 2021. Photo by Margaret Burke.

I have traveled to two different states in the past two months, starting with the letter A. Arkansas because it was only a three-hour drive away and Alaska because I missed my mom and wanted to go cross country skiing. There really isn't a connection to either one.

Aside from having another week of writer's block, I also find myself in the middle of trying to pick up the pieces of my life. I am adrift in my career, slowly recovering from heartbreak, and realizing that I am carrying pain in my right shoulder as I fly across the western states back to Kansas. I have tried to be okay with my surroundings and have found some sanctuary in the present. Days before my brother came into town, I rearranged my bedroom and living room. I finally felt like my apartment became my home, a place for me to rest and get away from the world. Before I decided to rearrange my apartment, I made travel plans. Anywhere that didn't remind me of ex-boyfriends, lost opportunities, or family members no longer here on earth. I remembered a friend of mine mentioned Eureka Springs, Arkansas, as a fun little getaway. I asked my mother to help me fly up to see her in Alaska since I hadn't been up there in nearly four years.

I went on those trips to escape reminders of the broken parts of my life. Little reminders like meeting a guy from Leavenworth, KS, at one of my favorite dive bars. The same guy that broke my heart. A guy that gave me word upon word of admiration, read a book I recommend, and would call me during his breaks at work just to hear my voice.

I think of him fondly, only to remember seeing a photo he took his girlfriend at that same dive bar a week after he broke it off with me. Salt to the wound. I blocked him, so I am not reminded of how worthless I feel. When he drunk texted me, saying he missed me and to talk to him, I was reminded of the wound again. Another block was added. I am only to be reminded of him again and again whenever I see Leavenworth pop up. It is getting better, but it still stings. It's like having a ghost but with an internet connection. A haunting that won't end.

Feeling disconnected from the town that I have called my home for the last four years. I am getting tired of the bar scene in a lot of ways. One of them is that going out doesn't make me that happy anymore. Another is that I am tired of pretending I have a good time when all I want is to not feel alone.

I feel expendable when I apply for jobs, hoping that all of my hard work will pay off. The master's degree was worth it; putting hours and hours into work would get me further into my career. I thought that if I put in the right words and said the proper sentences, I would be worthy of a new job. I am told, again and again, I am a good candidate but not quite what they are looking for. Another feeling of being kept at arm's length.

When I was in Arkansas, I didn't do anything super crazy. All I wanted to do was be somewhere that wasn't home. Hoping that the distance would help me get out of my depressive headspace. When I told people I planned, drove, and stayed by myself, it was like I had somehow become a pioneer in their eyes. Looking back, I realized it was the first time I had done something on my own. I went to an art museum, a haunted hotel, and a swanky coffee shop. I drove through hair-raising curvy roads to Eureka Springs, booked and paid for the Airbnb I stayed at, and planned the itinerary. All by myself.

A few weeks later, I flew up to Alaska during one of the coldest weeks they have had in months, with the temperature not going any higher than 25 degrees. I would go cross country skiing in 8-degree weather but sweating as I pound the poles into thick snow and glide. Walking through snow-covered sidewalks and my mom pointed out where moose cross in the city of Anchorage. The sun hardly rises high in the sky, and it sets earlier each day. I play countless solitaire games and drink cup after cup of coffee and creamer with my parents.

Before Covid, I would look up flights when work would hit the skids, or I felt the need to escape. It has been a coping method for me. As yet another Covid variant is spreading, I have to pause on any travel plans that I think of planning. When I was walking through SeaTac during my layover back to Kansas, I remember bringing my newly renewed passport. I thought, if I could, I could just leave the country. I have most of my essential items, minus my vaccination card. Why not just escape this country, but the entire continent? Maybe fly to Italy and wander around the Roman ruins. I could go to Istanbul and finally, see the Hagia Sophia and the bazaars in real life. Anywhere but here.

Right now, I am not anywhere but here. One phrase I keep thinking of, "No matter where you go, there you are." I'm still depressed, haunted by my ghost, still figuring out my next step in life. I may feel like I am crawling, barely moving, but I am still going forward.

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