apollo’s chariot

Moving is a pain in the ass. Whether it’s for a positive or negative reason, it always turns out to be three times as difficult and twice as expensive as you initially anticipate. If you’re like me you can’t help but wonder, “how the hell do I have alll these things?!” Hoarding, a trait I inherited from my father, is something I acknowledge I need to work on. Love you, Dad.

My partner and I had been cohabiting for a few weeks since our separation. A topic for another time (this is me saying I’m not ready to talk about it yet), however this decision allowed us to divide our belongings and organize our affairs with minimal turbulence.

We had purchased some expense items together, expecting to get our money’s worth over the next five to ten years. A good investment, right? Twists of fate are funny things, and here we are figuring out how to get rid of our chic office set up and luxurious 8Sleep California King bed in between crying sessions.

Fortunately, my partner is an excellent marketer, and we were receiving prompt responses on Facebook Marketplace. She would sell the items online, and I would manage the pickups while working from home. I was impressed by our ability to still work as a team, even after the breakup.

Soon enough, a couple came over to scope out our office chair. It was the second or third pickup, and I noticed buyers were hesitant about our attractive price points. My natural thought, too, would be “So what’s wrong with it?”. Transparency proves to be a powerful sales strategy. I informed the buyers that nothing was wrong with the items; my partner and I were separating and needed to part with our shared belongings.

This couple was particularly enthusiastic as we started conversing and made our way to the apartment. I couldn’t help but wonder why they were so excited. I mean, the chair was dope, but it was just a chair.

As we talked, I discovered they had moved from California a few days ago because the female partner landed a job at Vanderbilt Hospital. That casual remark struck a deep chord within me. My partner and I also moved from California to Nashville for her job.

Before starting our new chapter in Nashville, my partner and I embarked on an epic road trip, with stops in Zion, Denver, and more. Of course, there was fear, stress, sadness, and anxiety leading up to the move, but I remember feeling sheer joy after finally reaching Nashville.

“Wow, we did it, and I get to start this new chapter with my best friend.” In that moment, I was able to tap into that couple’s excitement, imagining myself in their shoes, and reliving that sense of joy once again.

The transaction was complete and they drove away starting their beautiful, new chapter in the Music City. For the next hour, I sat there, sharing the room with nostalgia that was staring me right in the face. Great company

I instinctively took out my phone and scrolled through pictures from the first few weeks of our move – candids of us surrounded by boxes containing pieces of our 20s, videos of our rescued chiweenie sniffing her new playground with a bewildered look, and random selfies capturing the joyous first moments we experienced in our city.

The thought of each day brimming with limitless possibilities and thrilling adventures alongside my ride or die sent shivers down my spine. The high I experienced then, the notion of boundless opportunity, was momentarily reignited.

Oh, how fleeting that feeling was. Like all highs, it eventually subsided, leaving me with a glimpse of emptiness as I looked up and noticed all my belongings piled in a corner, waiting to be packed. I glanced at my phone once more, and saw a text from the guy who bought the chair, which read:

“Hang on” – Hang on is right. This period feels like a rollercoaster, and I hate rollercoasters. I prefer seeking my highs elsewhere. To endure, all you gotta do is buckle up and hold on tightly. Depending on who you are, you can cry, scream, and/or laugh along the way. There’s no right way to feel on a rollercoaster.

‘been there” – The text doesn’t provide any information about his past, but knowing that he’s been on the ride before brought a sense of comfort, reassuring me that I can navigate the ebbs and flows that follow. After all, if you knew nobody ever emerged on the other side, you wouldn’t step onto Apollo’s Chariot or any other ride.

“it only gets better from there” To me, he’s essentially conveying that, ‘Yes, it won’t be easy, but the most challenging part of the journey is now – when it’s your moment to board the ride and fasten your seatbelt.

I can only have faith that there’s a chance for the script to flip back to being limitless again. Tomorrow may bring pain, the day after may not, and the fluctuating emotions I experience as the result of the separation are inevitable.

What will empower me are two things:

1. I am not alone, and I am surrounded by others—strangers and confidants alike—who are rooting for me and have been through similar experiences.

2. Hope. – In a way, that’s all you can hold on to when you are at a low or your lowest. Sitting at the bottom of this metaphorical rollercoaster, I take a deep breathe as I listen to the “click-clack” sound of the train ascending to the highest point. The sheer potential of rekindling that limitless bond will serve as my driving force.

As this story hits its conclusion, and the couple I encountered embarks on their introduction, it’s yet another reminder of how interconnected our lives are, the parallels in our stories, and the multitude of beginnings and endings that occur every single day.