I can’t believe I’m leaving this place. This absolutely beautiful place.

It was closing day at Vail yesterday, and all the employees had the mountain to ourselves today. It was ridiculously pretty (sunburn inducing) and for the most part, a really good time. While I skied the hardest run on the frontside of the mountain (w00t for conquering Prima!) and enjoyed some good champagne, the last two days have just kept reinforcing the need to go back to a place where I have some kind of support system.

I don’t have an option anymore–I’m out of my apartment here as of April 30, and I’ve already given notice at my job. I’m officially done. It’s in writing. And the job thing is a good thing–I needed to be done doing a mindless dead end job that I really despised most days. But at the same point, it was a job. I’m going back to nothing concrete, and it feels like a huge step back in a lot of ways. I’ve been out here, doing my own thing, surviving in a tourist destination while not making any money, for well over a year now. I survived. That in and of itself is an accomplishment in this valley. I still can hardly talk about the fact that I was hungry a lot last winter. I lived on generic oatmeal a lot; it was cheap and had a lot of calories. I was down to 3 dollars in my bank account once-and it wasn’t all that unusual for me to be with less than 30. I honestly don’t know how I got through last winter. This winter has been slightly better, but only because I got a second job, which I think ultimately was one of the reasons that I’m leaving–6 or 7 day weeks just make enough to live for a season is pretty much soul crushing. Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe most people can do that kind of work schedule and not eventually need to run away. Because I really feel like I’m running away.

… I feel like I’m giving up by going back home. I’m moving back into my parents house while I look for a job; I haven’t lived with them in over 6 years. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be unemployed. I don’t know how to be queer in their house. They can’t even talk about it–and one of the most exciting things about moving back to the city is being able to date women again. There isn’t a queer scene in Vail. At. All. The closest gay bar is in Denver. And it’s not even that I need the bar scene, but I need an outlet of some kind. I miss queer women; we’re a fun kind of crazy most of the time. I miss talking about gender dynamics and heteronormativity over coffee or martinis and not feeling like a freak for casually mentioning that beautiful girl. There are so many things that are exciting about being in a big city; but it becomes almost impossible when I’m basically going back into the closest.

I Hate The Closet. I don’t know how to be in the closet. I honestly don’t know how to turn off the random little things that my mother is going to take as “dykeish”. And it kills me to think about. One of the main reasons I’m moving back is to be close to my mom again–I miss her terribly. We’ve always been close, and yet there’s this huge part of my life that I can’t mention without bringing her to tears. I can’t process that. I can’t handle it in any sense.

I need some peace about this major transition that is happening. Maybe sleep will help. Sleep, and lots of wine. Yes.

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