Fucking Iowa

I can’t even say a specific amount of time the relationship has been over. And I don’t mean that in a symbolic way. I mean, the relationship was so toxic that we decided to live together months after the relationship officially ended. We pretended we were still in this facade for a bit longer because — well, being miserable is a hell of a lot better than facing uncertainty. I know that sounds all philosophic, but in reality that flew into my instagram feed a few weeks ago and I’ve been holding onto that statement like my fucking life depended on it. It helps me put some reasoning to the fact that I’m officially a thirty six year old single woman living in fucking Iowa for three months.

Yup, out of all the travel assignments I could’ve taken to live out my eat, pray, love fantasy, I found myself leaving for a small town in Iowa. I travel to different hospitals for work. Instead of heading to somewhere closer to the ocean to heal my broken everything, I went straight for the corn fields. Long story short, I took the first assignment I got offered to get the hell out of the big mess I found myself at home. And that, is how I am in fucking Iowa.

I keep saying it like that because there really is no other way to say it. I spent the last few months all over California working with said ex boyfriend — exploring, working, adventuring, and all that other stuff couples do. Instead of heading back to beautiful Santa Barbara, I chose to begin the healing process and find my ending like Julia Roberts — here in this tiny ass town.

I am more isolated than I’ve ever been in my life.

And it’s probably the best thing that could’ve ever happened to me.

Why am I writing this now? At 5:21 in the morning with 9 minutes left in my shift?

Because today I cried. Not an ugly cry. I was simply trying to finish my workout and out of the blue the tears that I had been holding back for weeks now finally crept out. And I realized, I have a lot of shit to unpack and my mind can only hold so many thoughts. I have so much word vomit in my head that so desperately need to come out.

What better way to express it that here, on the internet?

So today begins day one. What it leads to, I have no fucking idea. No looking back, press publish Rachel.