The rain stopped sometime in May and a lot of ambitions in my life screeched to a halt and led to a season of creative drought. As blindly as I was in love with the job that brought me to California as brutal was my awakening when our honeymoon ended and my job and I had a more honest look at each other. He - the job, that is - was not who I thought he was when I fell in love with him. Growing disappointment led to a tearful and dramatic break-up in early May.
Despite loosing my honeymoon infatuation weeks earlier being "dumped" suddenly shortly after my 31st birthday came as a shock. I had been determined to work things out no matter how difficult, but the decision was not mutual. I found my self unemployed without any substantial savings and no place to live. Since I had poured all of my energy into work, I had no support network or circle of friends to call on.
The drought that followed was a dark season. I am often asked why I didn't move back to Germany. I had no real ties in California, no serious friendships yet, no work, no income, no place to live. But my love for my new home had taken root so deeply that going back to Germany was out of the question for me.
I toyed with the idea of moving to Portland, but I feared that a major part of my attraction to good old Stumptown was nostalgia for a life that no longer existed. Moving back and expecting things to be as they used to be would inevitably lead to more disappointment and heartbreak. Over the course of time I learned that my best friends in Portland were moving away, only confirming that as much as I love this city, it is no longer my home.
Summer became a roller coaster ride for me. I was thrilled by the changes in nature, the fantastic hikes and adventures I had in the Marin hills, on Mount Tamalpais, beautiful wild beaches, nature preserves, vast open spaces. I found work serving food at festivals and got a wonderful introduction to West Coast festival culture and realized that I had FINALLY found the culture I fit into. I thought I never would, but I found I was becoming part of a family of people. I truly fit in for the first time in life and the experience was one of coming home after years of wandering. I feel like I have arrived after a lifetime of searching. I no longer feel lost, I feel like I have finally found what I have been looking for all my life. The experience still fills me with overflowing gratitude every time I think about it.
At the same time I entered into a new adventure I thought I would not dare to approach for months or maybe even years to come: I entered into a relationship. Mead and I met working together and became best friends instantly. For months we reassured each other regularily that we were "just friends". We were constantly asked about the nature of our relationship but insisted we were just friends. We remained blind to the depth at which we had bonded for weeks.
Mead's circumstances were no better than mine and due to his work conditions he couldn't afford rent and slept in his vehicle. When his vehicle broke down I offered him a place to sleep in my van. But after his vehicle was repaired we both decided to stay in the van together. Eventually we had to admit that we were no longer "just friends" but partners. Automotive partners. When we found better work we decided to remain partners. Domestic partners.
In the middle of summer we started renting an absolutely magical space on a hill surrounded by redwood trees. We even have redwoods on the property, a little paradise on earth. Every time I look out of the window I feel like I live in a fairy world. The path to our front door winds through sequoias and it sprinkled with colorful sparkling pebbles. Mead built us a loft bed and we are still working on moving in and matching the inside to the magic surrounding this place.
In late summer I spent most of my days working. I was hired by the same company that I was working for at festivals but now worked in my hometown assisting the owner in opening up a restaurant. Late summer almost passed me by, on my days off I was usually too exhausted to do anything but recover from a long workweek and seemingly endless overtime hours.
But I also started going to San Francisco frequently. One group of visitors after another came from Germany and I gave tours of San Francisco and her surroundings. In the process I began to fall in love with the city, her colorful victorian style houses, luscious parks, free events, barefooted hippies, rugged beaches, fantastic book shops, restaurants, and coffee shops. I love riding cable cars all day long, wind tearing through my hair, jumping on and off, running up ridiculously steep streets that have my calves screaming in protest.
As Indian summer set in, the fog dissipated and warm late summer nights replaced grey evenings, I fell in love. I fell in love not only with the city but also with the man who showed me her secret gems, hidden murals, melancholy memorials heavy with historical fights for freedom and tolerance of one of the most revolutionary and diverse cities in the world. The man who took me out for my first real date and under a starlit night in Dolores park asked if I would like him to kiss me.
As perfect as my life was becoming, there was something fundamentally wrong. I reached a point where I was nothing but grateful for my life. I felt absolutely fulfilled and truly happy - and depressed. As hard as I tried, I found no reason to be depressed, no circumstances that could have been the cause. Shortly after my divorce I interpreted fatigue, low energy, depression, anxiety, etc. to the trauma of my failed marriage. After that I thought it was because I was working through my past. Next it was due to detoxifying of something or another. When I moved to California I chalked it up to new circumstances. When my job turned out to be a major disappointment I took that to be the reason. When I worked endless hours during the summer, I held my schedule responsible. But by fall I had run out of excuses.
Last week I finally used the raise I received at work as incentive to see a doctor. I was tested for all kinds of possible conditions but while there were many smaller problems they all pointed to one underlying condition: mercury and heavy metal poisoning. I was tested for both and the results were positive, with mercury being present in large amounts in my nervous system.
Mercury levels as high as mine lead to all sorts of problems including failure to absorb nutrients, loss of muscle strength, thyroid conditions, liver problems, and any number of mental conditions ranging from memory loss to schizophrenia. Considering the toxicity of my body I am actually in really good shape, I could be a lot worse; many suffering from heavy metal toxicity are unable to work and lead normal lives.
At this point I am incredibly grateful to know why I am struggling with so many symptoms despite being so in love with life. I started a treatment program and am hoping to see results in the new few weeks. Of course I appreciate any prayers sent my way as I am going through recovery from this condition. I am grateful that my life's circumstances are constantly improving, offering better and better support. I am especially grateful for new friends I am making who are very genuine and deep and refreshingly honest.
Autumn in California is not what I expected it to be. As the rains come the world turns a bit more grey at times, but colorful fall foliage is not replaced by barren branches and dead grass. The ground is coming to life, what I know as spring season in northern climates is taking place here in November, tender shoots of grass, brown hills turning green, flowers coming to life, the forests becoming richer in color. It fits my mood. As the days grow shorter and we are encouraged to draw inward, new life flourishes. I pray it is the same for me. I draw inward for a time of healing and the blossoming of new life.
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