I walk into the apartment after work and just like the hot humid air outside I am suddenly hit by a sudden surge of emotions. Maybe it was the almost empty space that makes it suddenly seem so real. I feel the emptiness of the place. The boxes lined against the wall while one lonely chair swirls around in my living room.

It is now crunch time and I am down to 2 weeks before I walk away from 4 years of memories within these walls. I sit down on the only chair in my living room and gaze at the walls empty of paintings and all the little things that stood that made it my space, my retreat. I try to think of it not being my space and I feel tears choking up inside me. Why would I feel sad to leave this apartment that I kept saying I did not enjoy? I realize it is not the space or the lack of sunlight or the location, but so much has happened within these walls that changed who I am.

I sit there reminiscing about all the wonderful times I have had. The friends I have entertained, including friends who have betrayed me right here in this room. I suddenly think of it as a Judas moment, which makes me smile. I am hoping that leaving this apartment will help me get over that very dark sad time of my life. Maybe distancing myself from the place that held such painful memories will make it better.

Sitting here remembering painful times was not my intention, but it is hard to separate myself from that, because all those painful incidents have resulted in me being cautious constantly and held me back from forming friendships and relationships. Trusting people has become so difficult that no matter how hard I try to chip away at the wall, it is hard to do. Right now I don’t want to dwell on the negative, there is so much I have to look forward to that I need to force myself to think of the good times that are ahead.

Instead of sitting here staring at the empty walls I walk to the kitchen, the only place that still screams me. Even though most pans and dishes have been packed away, there are still baking trays which I will be using till the last box is packed.

Looking around me, I have a sudden sense of urgency of getting out of this apartment, even though I have 2 weeks more, I want this to be over and be out of here sooner than that. With that raging thought in my head I start cleaning and putting more things into boxes.

Sorting through the myriad of things that I have accumulated without remembering something is hard. It seems everything I have has a back story, most often it was bought with an ex boy friend or on one of our trips overseas. These last few weeks have been testing for me. Maybe mostly it is fear of the unknown, but the fear maybe because I don’t remember who I used to be. I was the person who got on a plane and moved across the world and right now just packing this apartment has made me fearful of what is ahead.

Packing is emotionally draining and I feel the need to go out and add some miles to my running shoes. I put my running shoes on and try to clear my head and try not to think of boxes, moving or packing. I want to for the next  hour be free, pretend I am running away from everything and it will never catch up with me.

However, that is easier said than done. Just when my mind is drawing a blank and I try to focus on running in the hot humid air, the song One Last Chance, by James Morrison comes on and all I hear are these words ringing in my ear over and over again “I’ve got one last chance to get myself together, can’t lose no more time it’s now or never and I try to remember who I used to be, I’ve got one more chance to get myself together……”

It seems no matter what on some days there is no escaping.

After the 6 mile run, I am back home, once again sitting on the lonely chair, staring at the blank walls and thinking, what if these walls could talk, what would they say to me? Maybe the walls will remind me of all the happy times and tell me that things were not as bad I think they were and remind me of who I used to be.