I feel the need to write, to desperately write, letting it all out in some creative way. Or draw, do a big, a huge painting, to draw out my feelings.
I wish I were more of an artist, a better artist. I wish I could let things out in a creative way that could be more deeply satisfying to me and also appealing to others, to help them see me, understand me, especially this current pain and the recent ongoing changes.
Today I let go of another piece of my California life: my car.
It was the first car I had ever owned, not really needing a car for myself alone before the summer of 2020.
It was old, from 2005, and had nearly 180,000 miles on it, of which about 30,000 were mine.
In January, a couple days before my gender-affirming surgery, I had a small accident with it. As soon as I was well enough after my surgery, I took the car to the mechanic to get it inspected: the damage from the accident was minor but the car itself would have needed so much other work done on it just because of its age that it wasn’t really worth getting it fixed. So I decided to buy a newer car, purchasing the same, more recent model from one of my dearest climbing buddies who’ll be returning to Europe in a couple months, and giving up my old car. The mechanic will take care of getting rid of my old car.
Today, at last, I went to the shop to empty my old car of the stuff I had left in it — stuff I always left in it — and turned in my title to the mechanic. I’m officially not its owner anymore.
I don’t love cars per se and I really wished I didn’t need one at all. But I had gotten attached to this particular vehicle because of the adventures on which it took me (& probably also because it was my first car ever). This car brought me to Colorado from California, safely, several times. The last time to stay, in January 2022. So maybe it has just served its purpose and can go in peace now.
It was a really tough decision for me. Not only on the financial level but also, and maybe mostly, from the emotional and symbolical viewpoint. When I was brainstorming with friends about what to do with my vehicle situation, one of my friends here said something helpful and lovely. She referred to a belief held in other cultures that objects have a “soul” connected to their purpose and she reminded me that the purpose of a car — or any vehicle, really — is mainly to bring us from point A to point B. And then she suggested that maybe, in my case with my car, point A was California and point B was Colorado: in which case, my car would have served its soulful purpose and could be let go of peacefully.
I like that idea and I hope my friend is right.
This is another little piece of my life, and of my California life, that I’m letting go of. Having a soulful reason and finding a meaningful ritual to let go of it will help relieve my pain.
Or maybe this concrete, practical act of letting go of my California car can be seen as one other meaningful ritual to help me let go of some pieces of my California life that don’t serve me anymore…?
The Little Prince and the Fox 