seeking comfort

Three weeks in and I'm feeling the effects of my strange, new world. Moving from a small, affluent community in suburban Canada to the 2nd largest city in the US, it seems as if I've plunged into some weird sensory explosion, and deprivation, at the same time.

I took a major blow when I visited the DMV and tried to register my Canadian car, finding out that it cannot be registered anywhere in the US because it does not meet US safety standards. WTF I just bought it brand new a year ago. How could this be? Plus, I just fucking paid $1100 to ship it here! I panicked and it set me spinning, amplifying all the other things that were beginning to feel a bit 'challenging'...

...Like the traffic. LA traffic is notorious, second only to Toronto and possibly NYC, maybe Boston too. I can deal with masses of vehicles, but all these roads and routes are unfamiliar to me. And there are things I've never even heard of or seen before, like red curbs, and pedestrian crossings everywhere and notices about not blocking intersections or they will kill your firstborn. And if you have the fortune of evading the 8 hours of rush hour traffic per day, the 45 minutes you saved on your 10 mile journey will be spent finding legal parking that doesn't cost you your second born.

OK, I am venting right now. But seriously...have you ever driven in LA? Holy shit! It's not for the faint of heart. I come home exhausted every time.

I also need to bitch about the noise. At least a little. Our apartment is in a fabulous location near one of the busiest intersections in the Valley. Lots to see and do within steps of our door. But we're on the 1st floor on the street side and Andy loves to sleep with the window open for fresh air. PROBLEM. I tried to be a trooper, but I tell you I felt like I was lying between the double yellow lines, trucks whipping by me in all 6 lanes as I lay there trying to sleep. Yep.

I have not heard silence anywhere in weeks. I have not seen a squirrel in weeks. The only place I've seen birds is at the beach. I see very few dogs or children. I miss my dog. I miss chipmunks. I miss the sound of crickets. I miss falling asleep to the rain. I miss Rob's backyard. I miss Rob. I miss our deep conversations, and I miss the comfort of his shoulder. I miss the endless stroking of my hair that made the whole world disappear. Where I could feel safe and go limp. And not be on guard for cars coming out of nowhere or people telling me I just spent $1000 needlessly, or sirens at 3am that make me wonder who's dying now.

Waaah! Give me a space where I can at least have my private melt down. I need to let the tears fall. I need to wail, yeah, just wail as loud as I want where no one will hear or see me. I don't want Andy to worry that I'm unhappy, or that I want to go back, because I don't. I just need to let this out in my own way, in my own space, so that I can move forward.