Scrapbook, and how I got my Name

Hello again MLPailers!

Something magical happened to me last night, and I wanted to make sure I share it with my heart-dwelling nestly owls of the internet=you!

In 1992, I went through a soul-searing, toxic, scary, abusive relationship when I was 18 yo. I managed to escape from a terribly isolated situation, and made a vow, a promise you could say, that I would travel the world and see new places before I settled down, went to college, got married, blah, blah, etc, etc.

Clearly that promise was an escape tactic in order for me to cope with the traumatic events from that relationship. But 7 years later, I was still bound and determined to make a trip abroad happen. Finally, surprisingly, everything came together. I left for Europe on March 24th, 1999. I was to be gone for 3 months, visiting 10 countries. I flew to Lisbon, Portugal, and would eventually fly back from Dublin, Ireland.

When I landed in Lisbon, I was so panicked, I called my mom and spent 2 hours not leaving  the airport. I was convinced I didn’t REALLY need to leave EVERYTHING I’d ever cared about behind:J ob, Apt, Boyfriend, Best Friend, Friends, Family… I could just get right back on a plane and come home and stop This Nonsense. Fortunately, finally, I made it outside.

The next 3 months were some of the most painful birth passage of Self I’ve ever known. It was messy. It was immature. It was frivolous. It was badly money-managed. It was also exhilerating, intoxicating, exhausting, thrilling, and I was utterly, totally, completely Free. I discovered my body’s natural clock-when she likes to get up, eat, how long I take to do things, how long I like to linger. I learned how long I need to really gaze at something to drink it in. I learned that my movement through space and time, is a singular event, and even if another redhead, of the same age, height, speech, and demographic were to do this exact same trip, it would be as different as Night and Day.

I walked off the plane in SFO on June 11, 1999, in a red dress, gold shoes, and greeted my new life.I had kept the Promise. I had nothing-no money, no home, no job. I had no sweetheart. But I had family, friends, and was loved. I also had one thing I’ve never had before, something so singular and original, I’ve never forgotten it.

The sense that I will ALWAYS keep a promise to myself. No matter how stupid, no matter how outdated. No matter if the original reasons aren’t the same reasons anymore, but that it must be carried through. If I went to the trouble to make the promise to 18 yo me, it’s because She NEEDED that hope to get through that tough time.

So the Scrapbook is the mosaic of that trip, that experience. I started Stitch n Bitch’s (craft nights) at my house 3? 4? years ago in a shameless attempt to finish the 3 book tome. Sure, I invited ppl over to work on projects. But really, I needed to get this done.

And last night, I did.

It’s finis.

I wonder what’s Next?

**Photo of album to be posted later**

Related Reading

• Why Promise?