Thursday, October 17
Yesterday i mostly slept and wandered around the house aimlessly, zombie-like. Zuul was attached to my side like she'd been grafted there; i couldn't leave a room for more than a few seconds without her getting upset. When i went to my mom's house to get Seras, i went into the bedroom where she keeps my cat isolated from hers, closing the door behind me, and Zuul immediately started howling. I came back out a minute and a half later and my mom was assuring her, "Don't worry, he didn't go to Europe again."
Seras usually takes a few days to forgive me for leaving, hiding and hissing whenever i come near, but this time i think she was actually happy i'd come back. I've never had an easier time stuffing her into her carrier, and later that night she was already following me around, until she saw the dogs. This morning, she was headbutting me and rubbing her scents all over my face. It's nice to have my little family back together again.
This morning, i finally went for a run, my first since July 24th. Almost three months. I'd bought trail running shoes for the trip, since i had expected to do a lot of hiking, and also had intended to keep running while i was over there. The running never happened even once, and the little hiking i did barely qualifies. I'm still very happy to have worn those shoes, they were very comfortable throughout and did exactly what i needed them to. Especially in contrast to Amanda's and my previous Eurail excursion, where we'd both made horrible choices for footwear, her on purpose and me on accident. She thought she'd be happy with her Vibrams Five Finger toe shoes, not realizing how much of Europe is cobblestones. I had just bought new shoes, which were identical to my old shoes, and left the house wearing the wrong pair. The soles were worn out and the fabric loose. Our feet were in so much pain the entire time. So this time, i made sure to get something with a thick, springy sole.
I lost over 20 pounds in Europe. The measure of weight, not the currency, since i didn't even go to England this time. I can definitely feel it, and not only because my running shorts were sliding down my ass within ten seconds of starting. I moved at a surprising pace, and felt really good about it. The run went very well...until i stopped. I hacked up an absurd amount of phlegm, and my lungs felt like they were full of daggers. I'm glad that all the walking in Europe helped improve my physical state somewhat, but i don't know if i'm going to be ready to run that marathon that i'm signed up for in three weeks.
Speaking of, what does the data look like? I don't have that fancy Garmin watch because i don't like spreadsheets, after all, so i did some math. 1,023,183 steps. I tend to get about 2,000 steps to a mile; less when i'm in an adrenaline-fueled hurry, more when i dawdle, and i feel like i did a pretty even amount of each, so we can use that for easy equations. That's 512 miles walked, meaning i've already fully depreciated those trail runners. An average of 16,241, or 8 miles, per day.
Here's one that worked out almost perfectly, by the way: the blog i've been posting to is titled "The 39,000 Steps." Rather than starting a new blog for this trip, as i am wont to do, i had decided to continue posting into the one i started for the previous Eurotrip, as Amanda was coming with me both in spirit and physically, in the form of some ashes in my necklace. If you read that previous blog, you may know that it's a cheeky reference to how many stairs i felt like we'd climbed at the time. It's a pun derived from Alfred Hitchcock's The 39 Steps, a stage play version of which was being advertised all over London at the time. Ever since we started wearing Fitbits three years later, i'd wondered what the data would have looked like from our Eurotrip.
I don't have data specifically pertaining to staircases, but i do have an approximation of how many flights i climbed per day, based on elevation changes, so it includes going up hills, ramps, and other inclines. I averaged 49 flights per day, 3110 total flights. I searched for the average number of stairs in a staircase, and it's 12. If you multiply that out, i climbed the equivalent of 37,320 stairs. So close!
And, for fun, i also tossed my sleep data into the spreadsheet. Even though i was taking it slow most days, trying to make sure i was getting adequate rest, i ended up averaging 7 hours 2 minutes of sleep per night.
Alright. Here it is.
Why did i go to Europe, actually, for real?
I gave a few reasons in different places in the log, and at one point alluded to not knowing which, if any, where actually the correct one. But the truth is, i did know. I didn't know if i would ever say it publicly, if i would admit it to others, but i was not deluding myself, at least. I knew what i was doing. I was looking for something.
You've stuck with me on this for so long. You've read so much of my internal monologue over the last two months. If you've printed this out, as my mom told me last night that she has, you've used nearly an entire ream of paper now. My document is showing page 472, and 312,436 words, and i still need to go back and write the last few days' worth of film reviews. I didn't expect anyone to keep up with this, much less so many of you. But if you're still here, you deserve to know.
So here it is. The final thesis.
Some of you may have already guessed.
This last year has been fucking unbearable and i've felt nothing but uselessness and hopelessness. I haven't been a good friend and i haven't been a good human. I needed to get away from the physical space that reminded me daily of my own failings and the tragedies of 2023. Not to put too fine a point on it, but i was looking for a reason to live.
Amanda's death has, rightfully, overshadowed everything. It was the most world-shattering thing that can happen to a person without children. So it's easy to forget that it wasn't the only thing i was going through. I lost my cat in February, my career in April, my dog in May, my wife in July, my home in the place where i finally felt like i belonged in September, and some key friendships that were the last thing holding me together in October. Any one of these would have messed me up for months, the whole sequence flattened me with a steamroller, ground me into a fine paste, and spread me out on toast to be chewed up and swallowed. From there, i spent most of my time lying on my back, staring at the nightmare rectangle in my hand, watching live coverage of atrocities and the global rise of fascism, much of which my government is complicit or culpable for. Fuck this entire world. I don't want to live here anymore.
I just wanted to see the world, before it ends.
It was Amanda that instilled the sense of adventure in me in the first place. In 2007, i had no desire to go anywhere. Traveling seemed like a waste of money. I felt that everything i needed was here, why should i spend thousands of dollars on plane tickets, when i could spend it on CDs i'm never going to listen to and books i'm not going to read instead? At the time i valued physical objects. But she was going to go to New Zealand, with or without me. At first, i was just going to let her. Then, one day, she told me that her and Alyssa, two 21-year-old American girls, were planning to hitchhike around the country, and i said, no the fuck you aren't. I am coming, to keep you safe.
And it altered my brain chemistry. I bought my first video camera for that trip, cobbled together a documentary, and had so much fun doing it that it pushed me to pursue filmmaking. We made plans for so many other trips. We were supposed to go do the same type of road trip around Scotland three years later. We talked about Ireland. We talked about the African savannah. We talked about Japan. None of these trips ever came together. Our previous Eurotrip was a choice we made more or less on a whim, on a suggestion from a coworker.
That was 2013. We would end up taking separate trips in 2015, her with the Reservoir Dolls to Nicaragua and me to Canada with our dog, Haley, while Alyssa went to the Badlands.
That was the last time either of us left the United States.
After her cancer reached Stage IV and it was starting to feel like treatment wasn't working for her, i tried to tell her that we should just go take a trip. Take the money we'd saved for retirement, and just go. She kept saying no, she wanted me to have it for after she was gone, and i said i didn't care about that. I wanted her to have her adventures, while she still could. We started planning the Africa trip, but i don't know if she ever had an honest intention to go. Maybe she did. Maybe she was humoring me. I'll never know. All i know was, she prioritized her treatments. I can't blame her, not at all. She never gave up hope that she was going to make it, not ever. The day she died, she went to the hospice facility believing they were going to get her back on her feet and send her home in a week or two.
Her courage and optimism were infectious. She kept me optimistic. I didn't even accept that she was going to die until about six days before she did.
But of course, that was much too late. We were never going to go to Africa together.
So, back to The Umbrella Fairy.
We were supposed to see the world together.
I'll just have to go and see it for her.
So did i find what i was looking for?
I think so.
When i left home, i had thought that i would find it in a noun. A person, place, or thing. I've made a few posts over the last year about dating and/or romance or whatever, but i have almost always deleted them. I don't understand any of it. I'm scattered and unfocused in that area, and i still don't feel right about it, to be completely honest. I know i had one post where i asked if anyone had any advice about dating, or Europe, or dating Europeans.
I did join another dating app, Badoo, while i was over there. I literally Googled, "what is the most popular dating app in Europe," and i paid for three months of premium on this fucking thing. I put in my profile that i was a tourist and i was interested in a summer fling, nothing too serious. But like, my plans were very flexible. If i'd have made a good connection with someone, i could've scrapped all of the rest of my travel and just stayed with someone in Belgium or Poland or, hell, even all the way back to Norway if i wanted. And if things went really well, maybe i could start planning to move to Belgium or Poland or Norway within a year or two to be with them. But what actually happened was, i would look through profiles for ten or so minutes each day, and never swipe on any of them. People were swiping on me, sometimes even people that seemed interesting and attractive, that i might have even liked...and i couldn't do it. I couldn't swipe back. I couldn't start a conversation. I just wasn't there. It still feels a bit like cheating.
The truth is, i don't want to be dating, not really. What i want is to be in a happy, healthy marriage with someone i've known and loved for most of my life and know better than anyone and knows me better than anyone, that loves me unconditionally and that i love unconditionally.
And that isn't possible.
I had my happily ever after. And it was ripped away from me.
Fifteen months later, i still don't know how to deal with that.
Maybe i'd fall in love with a place. In the planning stages, i thought Estonia seemed really nice, maybe i'd like it so much i'd decide i just wanted to be there. Someplace new to build my new life, without any of the baggage of the old one. I ended up liking Belgium a lot more than i'd expected. Actually, Riga, Latvia might have been my favorite city that i visited. I'm not sure.
But, of course, what i really found was, every place has its problems. This shouldn't be a surprise to anyone, it is the way that things are. As much as i liked the places that i saw, what i found was...i miss my friends. It was hard enough when i was in California, and being back in Wisconsin, i have that for my California friends now. I don't know if i can be even further away.
I might never move away from Madison again.
I don't know.
I can't build a career here, not the one that i want, anyway.
But also. I miss people.
Fall in love with a thing? What does that even mean?
Well, when i talked about the Lava Show, i mentioned that Samantha, the lava artist that performed for and educated us, came to Reykjavík accidentally and fell in love with volcanoes. She decided to move there to become a geologist. And i feel that.
I know Estonia has a film industry. Some big films have shot there recently. Triin, the local who showed me around for a few days, pointed out several locations around Old Town that have been used for many movies.
So that's possible too.
I didn't find anything like that, though.
What i did find was solace in ideas. I'd hoped the film festivals would be inspirational, and oh boy, they were. I've had a lot of hangups about returning to my film career without Amanda. She was instrumental in pushing me that way, and supporting me through it, and helping to produce the short films that i did complete. She's so deeply entrenched in The Monster Of Mud Lake, the feature film i've been working on for eight years now and the one i still intend to make, if i do make a film, that there's no way to separate it from her. She'll still get a producer credit, if it ever gets finished. We had a couple other film ideas we'd worked on together, too, that i'd love to see come to fruition one day.
I'm not gonna lie, it also helped a whole lot writing and publishing this blog. I can't believe i wrote as much as i did, and that people read it. But the comments really did keep me going. I've always been a writer and a creator. I wrote my first comics before kindergarten, and my first long-running series with established continuity between first and eighth grades. I wrote my first novel in fifth grade, and my first one that meant anything twenty years ago, in college. I printed out five copies of the college one with intention to give them to some people for test reading. Two of them actually got delivered, and only one got read, and he kind of tore it apart. I regret that i haven't really written anything longform since, other than my previous travelogues, which don't come anywhere near this one.
So for people to actually read and comment on it, including having a published author tell me she's been looking forward to my posts every day and then cheekily tell me i need to go on another two-month vacation soon to support her voracious reading habit, plus people adding their own suggestions for things to do and see, and some long DMs with close friends watching my moves and helping me out in confusing situations...that has helped me a lot. It helps me feel like i can still create something of value. It helps me feel like people still care about me and what i'm doing.
It's helped me find a way to value myself again.
Did the trip heal me?
I think it helped me make some progress.
In the early entries, particularly across the Nordic countries, i thought about giving up and returning home daily. I wrote a lot about being very insecure and emotional. Over time, that dissipated.
I'm really glad i stuck it out. If i had just cut my losses and flown home from Stockholm or Helsinki, i would never have left my bed again. I would have continued to spiral, just as i'd done for the year before the trip, except now with the knowledge that i had failed to even take a vacation and have an adventure.
I thought the trip would force me to regain my confidence, to become social again, to meet people and make friends. I don't know if it fully came through in my writing, but the last few weeks of the trip, i do feel like some of that started to rebuild. Like by the time i came to Reykjavík and i confidently strode into a restaurant and said "i'm new in town, what's good?" Like. That's not a thing i would've done eight weeks ago. I felt confident, and happy, and that clerk reacted accordingly.
I can't say that it's turned me back into an extrovert or anything, though. I think what really happened is, i learned how to work with myself in this state. I learned where my limitations are and how to still get things accomplished while staying within them. I can hope that someday i'll still be as confident as i used to be. But it may take years to get there. And i think i've accepted that. Which is, ironically, the first step. Finger traps and all that, which i just looked up and, unsurprisingly, do not appear to actually be Chinese.
I think it goes back to Paris. I had talked about all of the weight i felt in Paris, and how once i got to Belgium, it felt like a lot of it had lifted. I still think that's true. I think i left a lot of my emotional baggage in Paris.
I still stand by the statement that i should've left Paris sooner, but i am very happy that i went. I still associate the city very strongly with Amanda, we made some important core memories there, even though we were only in Paris for two days. I think that going back to those places, confronting those memories directly, and accepting that they're places that still exist without her has helped me make peace with some of those memories. I think that going to Pont des Arts, the Eiffel Tower, and especially L'Arc de Triomphe again really helped me to process my grief and come to terms with my new paradigm.
It was several weeks after i'd left Paris, though, that i think i finally found the last piece. Well, the last piece that i've gotten so far, anyway; several layers still remain that it will take years to get through.
I've been approaching this all along as if my relationship with Amanda was over. It's not. It won't ever be. It's just changed. It needs to be redefined, but it isn't over. She hasn't left me.
D passed away last year February, my sweet little girl, the cat of whom i had said, "I've never had an emotional support animal, but if i did, it would be D," the closest bond i've ever felt with a cat. As soon as she was gone, Amanda held D's body to my chest and helped me put my arms around her. "She lives in here now," Amanda said, pointing to my heart.
Amanda lives in there with her, now. Some of her energy is still with me. Always will be.
Now, i just need to figure out how that manifests.
I had a bit of a come-to-Jesus moment in the bottom of that boat, between Stockholm and Helsinki. The ferry that assigned me a cabin well below the water line. It was the first time i had been left fully alone on the trip, and i was feeling the crushing weight of everything upon me. I wrote a lot about the weight in the Stockholm logs.
I used to talk to God. Not praying, exactly, i don't think i've really believed in formal prayer since i was a small child. But for a while, when i still believed there was a god out there, i would try to talk to it in times of great despair. Haven't in years, maybe over a decade. But that night, alone, in one of the most isolated places i have ever existed, in a place where not even the boat's own wifi could reach, so how could God?, i broke down and cried and reached out anyway. I said that i didn't know if a god existed or could hear me, or if Amanda was perhaps in the room and could hear me, but i was in the darkest place i've ever been, and i just needed to know that, someday, i would see her again. I cried myself to sleep.
When i woke up in the morning, i felt a new reassurance in my soul. I felt like i'd been heard. And for the first time, i did feel it. I did feel like i would see her again. I did feel like a little thing like death couldn't keep us apart forever.
I don't know how to describe it. I still don't know if a god exists, but i also don't think that the presence of a god is necessary for the existence of souls. I think the two concepts can exist independently of one another.
Anyway. I've been basically agnostic since i was 16 or so, i just don't think about it. "I'll find out when i get there," i always say. Amanda identified as a Pagan of nature. She believed that her energy would return to the Earth, and she believed in reincarnation. I said at her funeral that i had to believe she was a wolf by now, but i no longer think that. She told me once, shortly before she died, that she would wait for me. I told her not to, because i knew she wanted to be a wolf, and because whatever paradise awaits her or any of us after death, i didn't want her to have to delay that for me. I could have twenty or forty or sixty years left. Who knows.
She did also tell Alyssa once that she wanted me to move on with my life. Alyssa had snarkily said something like, "What if Trevor has kids with someone else? Wouldn't you be jealous?" and Amanda said, "No. Trevor needs to live his life." And that's how i know she really meant it.
It still doesn't make it any easier for me to live without her.
This went on a lot longer and deeper than i meant for it to. I'm not going to delete it, though. This is all very personal and emotional and hard to talk about. But i think it is the key to understanding everything that i've done in the last two months.
And i think that it all finally makes sense.
I think i'm going to be okay.
I think all of it was necessary. Every single bit.
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