It's my last night in the Chateau LLV as one of the L's. There's an echo in my room, the walls are blank, and all that remains is my mattress (on which I am currently residing) and a trashbag in the corner. My truck is carefully packed for the journey north. These are the markers of the borderlines of old and new.
This has been, without a doubt, one of the most wild months this past year; it has not, however, been the hardest.
This time last year, I considered it an achievement if I could make it off the couch to drive to Wendy's and get food. "Yes. I fed myself today. That's 10 points for me." Since those days I've finished a thesis, officially graduated with my master's, taught for a year at TWU, moved again, worked at scarborough faire for a hot minute, and finally figured out the real reason I can't accept compliments very well. Hell of a year.
This past year was a year about boundaries. It was a year about reviewing and renewing my individual identity. It was a year about finishing projects and finding new directions. It was liminal.
I've decided to close the chapter on the liminality blog because I'm no longer in liminality. Rather, I am taking back the agency I had lost, and intentionally throwing myself into the liminoid. Last year, my state of identity was more liminal: finished with coursework but still in thesis land, out of a relationship and negotiating that identity, unemployed, very depressed. Not optional. Little agency.
This month, I sold my car, packed a truck, and took some risks resulting in (temporary) unemployment that will (hopefully) eventually end up better in the end. Intentional. Full of agency.
905 liminality street, was about negotiating a liminal identity- for an entire year.
This blog, this year, will be about adventure in the liminoid.
Everything must always come to an end. Otherwise, nothing would ever get started. - The Doctor