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God, it feels good to be back here. After weeks of nervous anticipation, excitement and fear, I arrived back in STL and felt like I never left. Although I was running on no sleep from 9am Friday, I managed to forge ahead until 3am this morning.
It’s a strange mixture of “everything’s changed and yet everything’s still the same” feeling. It’s been so therapeutic seeing everyone again. Instant calmness, peace, comfort, familiarity washed over me at dinner as we attempted to sit 9 to a corner booth, even though the ENTIRETY of the restaurant was empty. Elbow to elbow, sharing food and laughing like I had never left. My heart felt FULL.
It was just so…good. I felt myself almost crying numerous times through the night and I can’t even explain why. Not because I was unhappy or miserable or angry or even sad, but just a feeling of “oh wow, I MISSED y’all SO much.” Because these people? They get me. Although they were only in my lives for my last year in St. Louis, they were the ones that really unknowingly tore me out of the depressing hole I was in.
When we go out, it’s not fake or dressed up or over-the-top. We go to funny unique little hole-in-the walls like Hide Away where 70-year olds dance and drink and it’s genuine and I LOVE it. We sat in this weird little place with red walls and half-naked Native American women paintings and watched them sit on stools with their perfectly coiled hair swaying to the music. Music, which by the way, is provided by an old man with a little white mustache playing a keyboard with sound effects and singing classics and standards. This is peace, I think. The comfort of being around people that don’t push me to party harder because I’m tired or run 5 miles because it’s shocking to them that I don’t. It leaves an ache in my chest and I wonder if I’ll ever find those kind of friendships in Austin.
I’ve been incredibly lucky in my life with the people I meet. I know that each group serves its different purpose and meaning in my life and they aren’t replacements for each other. But I just hope that I come across the same feeling of comfort and home again.
Summer always seems to bring change. The end of May into the beginning to June begs for it. After years of watching people leave me and go on their adventures, I finally go to go on my own last year. This time around, I watch my friends go off on their own version of “Jane Moneypenny’s Quarterlife Crisis” move.
In 2 weeks, I return to St. Louis for a much needed visit and relaxation. After 8 months away and almost a year to the date I moved, it’s going to be a mixture of emotions. Hope for the friends packing to move away, sadness to not see those that left, and excitement to feel that familiarity I’ve been missing. I want to return victorious and awesome, as if moving away was the best choice of my life and leaving was great for my soul, my heart, my perspective. But I’m not confident that’s the case.
A year ago, I was leaving for this great unknown adventure with so much potential. Now I’ll return with a lot of mental and emotional exhaustion and unsure of where I belong. I hate my job, still haven’t found the right group of friends and got hurt by guys I should have learned to stay away from.
In some twisted way to control my return, I signed up for a hellish 3 weeks of fitness boot camp. It’s grueling and my shin splints have stopped me from pushing myself all the way. While everyone runs, I have to sit on the sidelines doing modified leg exercises. I feel like a failure, even though I know the fact I’m even doing this boot camp is already its own success. So I keep pushing each day, biting back the pain and thinking of how good it will feel to look tan and toned when I return. Or at least that’s what I imagine in my head as happening, even though 3 weeks is not going to magically give me the body of my dreams.
After all, there ARE old crushes and exes to be seen. 
First, let’s all breathe a sigh of relief for the passing that is Gustav, but also hope for the best in the communities that got hit badly. It was a tense weekend as I crashed on Mr. Former Harmless Crush’s couch with our laptops and watching the news with bated breath. He finally demanded we get out to take some time away from the doom and gloom, so we ran around Dave & Buster’s Sunday night and forgot about reality for a couple hours.
I left Houston on Monday and moved into Austin; the actual move was short since half my stuff is still in New Orleans. I still feel unsettled since I’m only at my friend’s temporarily until I make enough to move out and closer to work (a 40-minute heavy crawl in traffic to work is not worth the cheap rent and large space). I also have no idea where I’m going in this city and the newly purchased shiny GPS doesn’t ease the discomfort of being completely unaware of Austin’s geography and not knowing anyone.
My first day of work for the second time this year was yesterday. It was the exact opposite of my first day at my last company in February. One of my biggest worries was this “corporate” environment that I’m not used to, but I decided I was up for the challenge of learning more and experiencing outside my comfort zone. And outside my comfort zone it has proven to be.
When I arrived Tuesday morning, the HR woman greeted me warmly and showed me where I would be sitting. Due to the quickly expanding offices of these two companies sharing a space, I was stuck without a cubicle in a lone desk against a window with my back facing the rest of the large room. I hate this position due to sheer paranoia of people popping up behind me (I solved this problem at the last job by placing a little mirror on the wall). But it is what it is and until I find my place in situations, I’m painfully shy and passive. And so I sat. And sat. For an hour doing nothing but skimming over the folder of paper introducing me to the company and the usual computer setups. An hour later, HR lady showed up again and we went through a 30-minute explanation of an even bigger folder of paperwork (another woman started the same day, but was much older and a little cold). Then back to the desk I went. And sat and sat and sat some more.
I guess I was expecting a lunch excursion or a tour of the office or meeting the team, but no one spoke to me or wondered about the new person sitting there. And I kept on sitting there, surfing the web until the hunger pains became excruciating and encouraging emails from my old office sent me to the streets of downtown Austin looking for food. Of course, not knowing my way around, I wandered for a bit in the 90-degree heat and contemplated running away. The rest of the day was like that; other than a short meeting with the art director to show me some work, I spent the day alone at the desk reading encouraging emails from my old office and trying to tackle the large stack of paperwork. Also, to add to the hilarity of this situation, the art director had incredibly bad breath and body odor. No matter how much I leaned back in the seat or away from him, the smell permeated every breathing space around me.
Of course, there’s the usual comments of, “It’s the first day. It’ll get better” and “Maybe everyone was just very busy” (which is true, due to transitions in the company right now) and “Go talk to someone.” But I’m not kidding when I say I’m seized by a bizarre case of social anxiety in unknown and new situations. No matter how many new things I’ve tried this year, suddenly fixing that problem will not happen. So please don’t tell me to just start talking to people. Everyone’s really busy and due to these transitions this week, everyone’s tensed and stressed. Sitting here alone has made me feel like going to the bathroom and crying (that I couldn’t find for the first half of the day due to no tour of the office). I almost burst out crying yesterday after lunch and it takes a lot to even get to that point of holding back tears. The one person that introduced herself only stopped by after seeing my Greece photos on my desktop background and didn’t realize I was new until the end of the short 2 minute conversation.
I thought day 2 would be better, but here I sit again. I showed up 9am and frankly, I could have arrived hours later and no one would have noticed. I feel horribly homesick for my old job, St. Louis and New Orleans. I miss my giant large cubicle with massive file cabinets and pretty window view. I miss the close-knit environment of my funny co-workers that became like family in the short 4 months I was there. I miss having my boss be like a crazed uncle calling me on the phone whenever the ice cream truck ding-a-linged by. I miss Europe. I miss the feeling of being settled and knowing a city like the back of my hand. I miss having friends around.
But I knew it would be tough when I made this choice. Position-wise, I’m lower a rung, but being paid more. I took it with the idea that I could learn a lot in a bigger company, no matter how much I wasn’t a fan of the “corporate” environment. If anything, it was temporary until something better comes along. It’s not that I regret the choice to take this job/city over the other one; I know it’s the right long-term choice. But I’m not going to lie and say it’s hard not to think “what if?” or desperately crave familiarity.
And food.
P.S. Also, even though the attire of the office is casual with jeans and flip flops, all the girls are dressed incredibly cute. I do not own cute, so I need to go shopping (where the hell is the mall?!), but I have no money! And I need to find an apartment and furniture and move the rest of my stuff. I need to win the lottery.
We barely looked at each other last night. Other than a sentence or two, there was little interaction although our chairs were brushing each other for two hours. I had a head full of conversations and stories to tell him (let’s call him Mr. Adventure), but with the arrival of his newly moved-in girlfriend, my mouth remained shut. No matter how many times his best friends had warned me he was different around the girlfriend, I held out hope once we hung out again, things would fall into place and rapport would flow like it always did.
We had probably 4 short conversations:
1) Obligatory greeting: “Welcome back, Jane!”
2) Confusion about my return:
Him: “When did you get back from Europe?”
Me: “Three weeks ago.”
Him: “Wait, what? Really?!”
Me: “I haven’t been in STL* for 3 weeks, dummy. I clearly would have called if I was back.”
Him: “Oh, yeah. Right. I was going to say…”
3) “What, you’re just drinking water?” Disappointment on his face because he knows around certain people, I feel a little more comfortable drinking a little and he’s one of them.
4) Later on, in a weird moment of syncing deja vu, we spoke at the same time and finished the others’ sentence. I get I’m analyzing too much, but this is the way we’ve always interacted. His girlfriend had a look on her face that occured any time we conversed (those tiny 3 times), so I changed the subject. We were like strangers and it made me question this chemistry I swore existed.
Like I’ve said before, I don’t want to be that girl in someone’s boyfriend’s life. Having so many close guy friends, it often happens and I get filtered out of the guy’s life until the relationship ends. I was meeting this girl for the first time and the last thing I wanted to do was make her insecure, even if all of his family and friends don’t like her. It’s not my job to owe her anything, of course, but he’s convinced himself this is functional (he was about to break up with her when she surprised him by moving here). The entire time we sat there, all I could think was, “I miss ’single’ Mr. Adventure, the one always up for anything.”
When everyone parted ways that night, his best friend (seemingly former best friend nowadays) and I went to a late night diner and I spilled out my frustrations. He, too, misses Mr. Adventure and has made his feelings well known about his dislike for this new situation and intrusive girlfriend.
But it is what it is, right? People come and go and he came into my life in May when I unkwowingly needed it. Smallbone and I stood in our friend’s wedding this weekend and watched her also slip out of our lives. Of course, the argument can be made about “You husband is your new best friend. He’s your #1,” but watching her completely cut off her friends and become subservient to her new husband is frustrating. It hurts to let go of people and friendships and relationships that have played such an impact and realize it’s at the end. Some friends, you can pick up where you left off, but others, it just seems tiring to wait around and continually get hurt. Is this what growing up is about? Knowing when to count your losses and go or stay and risk it out? Are these choices supposed to be easier with age?
*I will say this: returning here has confirmed I made the right choice moving.
On the 10 hour drive today, I had a lot of time to think about everything that’s happened. I cried for the first 20 minutes and then slapped my head when I realized I was so distracted, I had gone 1-44 West all the way down to Pacific (the route we went yesterday to float) and completely missed 1-270 fifty minutes ago. Not a great way to start the trip. Good thing it’s my favorite stretch of road to drive because the scenery is so breathtaking. I had to flip back a few times on the drive due to my mind being completely somewhere else and each time, the “ST. LOUIS [# miles]” would show up, I was tempted to keep heading back. The second I walked in the door, my mom started nagging me and I had to pay a pile of bills and unpack the car. At that moment, I realized how real it was I was no longer in another city.
I never ever fathomed it would be this hard. Or I did but never in the situation that I imagined for years. There was no tearful goodbye to him; I didn’t even see him in the last week. There was no goodbye at all. He just faded off my radar. Instead, my sadness and bittersweet goodbyes were towards the new people in my life – the girls from the last year that befriended me and made me feel so welcome, the new co-workers from a job that fell in my lap and the two guys that suddenly became a big part of my life in the last week. Isn’t that funny? The one situation that caused me so much grief and every emotion possible in the last 6 years was barely on my mind as I drove away today. I wouldn’t have been so miserable in STL for so many years if it wasn’t for that, so it begs the question if I would have ever bothered to leave. Or if I would have left earlier. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore other that I got ever a massive obstacle in my life that I never thought I would and now I’m about to start this unknown new chapter of my life.
I can’t seem to think about the future right now. Not even tomorrow or the day after because right now, my heart seems to be somewhere floating along a river or in the car on a last minute road trip through small town Missouri. He asked me last Sunday night why we hadn’t become friends sooner or hung out more. Not for lack of trying on my part, buddy. Despite knowing each other for a year, I guess our friendship didn’t exist until this week. I’m pretty damn sure the chemistry has always been there. But this is the way life falls and it wasn’t meant for anything more than that. And I think I’m okay with it, even though our eyes do meet in humorous moments and in such a short time, we wordless share sandwiches and the occasional drink as if we’ve been doing it for years. I didn’t jump that cliff for him. I can promise that. But I did jump knowing he would at the bottom to yank me out when I panicked and drowned. I don’t remember much of it other than jumping, screaming, closing my eyes and hitting the water and getting pulled out. A lot of laughter, patting on the back and the girls on the shore thinking I was insane.
I miss my apartment. Not that I don’t love being home, but that apartment was me, my space, my solace. It was painful closing the door behind and locking it one more time. The first thing that went in was the last thing that went out as a friend helped me lug the old Walmart futon mattress (that has slept many guests) to the dumpster. He seemed a bit bummed too; it was his first post-college apartment as much as it was mine and hearing our voices echo made me want to blink my eyes back to the way it looked a month ago. I never thought leaving St. Louis would be so heartbreaking. It actually felt like those days after the end of a relationship when you know it was the best choice, but that feeling in your chest won’t go away.
And I just got an email from this guy, basically saying he was sad I was gone and thanking me for a cupcake and note I sent him right before I left. Hilarious. Good timing, buddy.
It’s weird slowing down. I’m so used to being on the go and now I just have time to breathe. It’s a good thing, but the workaholic in me is itching to do something. But I have to do this one day at a time, at my own pace and remember to continually living my life like I have in the last 6 months: with heart, with exuberant passion and with an undying desire for adventure.
On my last day today, I did the quintessential MO thing and went on a float trip. I suddenly decided the weather was too perfect on Sunday to miss an opportunity to have one more adventure and so the next thing I knew, I had pushed back my leaving day a day later and was planning a float trip. And oh, was the weather so perfect. A gorgeous 85, slightly overcast with the sun coming out at the right times. A raft of 3 young boys kept drifting near us until the youngest one (must have been about 7) and asked the 13-year old why. His response: “Because I want to see the boobs!” Ah, low cut bathing suits.
I think I could have laid on that raft forever, listening to the drunken laughter of my friends and wishing life could always be this good. I had said a sad good-bye to my apartment (think Sex and the City movie when Carrie closes the door behind her) and the car was packed to the tippy top. So I had nothing to do but float on a lazy river in Missouri. All day, my heart hurt. I never actually thought leaving here would make me feel heartbreak, but it clinched in my chest and settled in my stomach. Secretly, I wanted the day to last forever, so I could always have the potential of leaving tomorrow but forever enjoying that last day.
When we got to the end, there was a giant cliff to dive off of. The guys jumped with little problems as I snapped away with the old-school disoposable camera. Oh, how I wanted to jump! But I’m a weak swimmer, deeply fear deep water and really, let’s be honest, that’s insane! My heart wouldn’t let go of the idea. Because WHY NOT? I had already thrown my life into the wind and was flying at the seat of my pants; might as well cliff jump into a river. And then suddenly, I said yes and was climbing up the rocky incline and standing very high above the 2 guys promising they would save me if I started drowning.
It felt like I stood there forever, but it must have been only 10 minutes. A lot of talking, a lot of promises, a lot of fear. The rest of the girls were yelling at me to abort the mission, but something made me stay up there. “Stop thinking and just jump!,” they yelled from the bottom.
And so I did.
chemistry:
1) the science that deals with the composition and properties of substances and various elementary forms of matter
2) chemical properties, reactions, phenomena, etc.: the chemistry of carbon.
3) the interaction of one personality with another: The chemistry between him and his boss was all wrong.
4) sympathetic understanding; rapport: the astonishing chemistry between the actors.
5) any or all of the elements that make up something: the chemistry of love
I have a strange fascination with chemistry between people. Does chemistry only exist if it’s mutual? If neither person acknowledges it out loud to the other, is it actually there or just in one person’s imagination? Is it then just attraction? Chemistry is such a frustrating and amazing thing. It’s a mixture of lust and a spark of emotional/intelligent connection and when it suddenly pops up, your heart feels warm and possibly like it might pop out of your chest at any minute.
But, of course, there’s always obstacles in the way. Chemistry is frustrating that way. Social dynamics of a group, girlfriends, boyfriends, distance, etc., etc. But despite all that, it’s still nice to get that little thrill in your chest and know that there’s people out there that you can have such a connection with. His are the eyes that you catch anytime something funny happens in the room. When you’re alone, all you can think about the hope he kisses you. He finds you interesting and wonders why y’all weren’t friends sooner and says how much he admires you for what you’re about to do. Boom boom boom goes the heart.
I had the one of the best days in a long time: one of those perfect summer days that makes me realize I’m so damn lucky and feeling happy is an incredible feeling. During lunch with 2 new guy friends (one which I have the above chemistry with, but as usual, he has a girlfriend), I threw out I had a tradition (started last year with Smallbone) of spontaneous adventure on Memorial Day. The next thing I knew, they had agreed to go with me to Elephant Rock State Park, a place I’ve been itching to go to for years. Most people would have scoffed at doing a 2 hour road trip so late in the day, but they were completely game and off we went through the back roads of Missouri. Not once did they look at the time and say, “It’s getting late. We really should get going.” They barely checked their watches, other to say, “It’s still early!”
The park was everything I had hoped and much more. The giant granite boulders were for some serious hiking and climbing and anytime I had to jump over a huge gap, the guys were both incredibly encouraging, making sure we took routes that my shorter legs could take safely. Unlike most people that get annoyed with my constant picture taking, they made sure I had my camera and continually took photos whenever they held the camera when I jumped. I get this is what guys should do, but it’s not done enough: being accommodating, nice and patient and I left feeling the most energetic I’ve felt in a long time.
So despite we had work tomorrow morning, we took our time driving back, watching the scenery and little towns and the gorgeous sunset. Even more of a clue we were fated to be friends: They wanted to stop by a small town diner for some good food (I’m a huge fan of this). The place we chose was sketch though and even though the name was “Frogz,” their frog legs looked like it had just came off the amphibian and smelled like it was picked from the pond outside. It did NOT taste good or like chicken legs (and I’ve had good frog legs before). We ran out after that.
It’s a shame I discovered them so late in my life here. It’s even more of a shame I didn’t realize how good I had it here until recently. I thought for the longest time I was alone here as I watched my college friends filter out the city. But in this last year, I’ve made some incredible new friends and social/professional network and it hurts a little I’m leaving. But nothing worth doing was ever easy, right? I’m leaving on a high note with a great memory of a spontaneous road trip with bad frog legs and a crush that makes me feel 15 again…even if he has a girlfriend.
I freaked out about leaving tonight. Fear gripped my heart and I think I stopped breathing for a second. I know my anxiety has been mentioned numerous times in the last few entries, but this is the first time I actually truly considered staying. I was describing my job to a guy I hadn’t seen since last summer and then randomly bumped into the co-worker who recruited me. Even then, it was still quiet anxiety. It was when we were sitting in a dive bar eating delicious cheeseburgers and fries and talking about the STL Cardinals opening day game Monday, did I panic. And panicked the entire drive home. All I could think about was missing out on summer baseball games, one of my favorite pastimes. The thought of not being in the city during the best time of the year pains me. I’m more than sure this episode of freak-out had nothing to do with baseball (well, maybe a little); it just happened to be the thing I focused on.
I’ve heard this is normal. It has to be. Why can’t it be easier? I guess change is never easy. I always thought the second I got over my ex, I would walk out of here without a problem. It’s like leaving for college all over again. I hated the idea of leaving a city I grew up in, a long-term boyfriend and great friends for this huge unknown of college. I remember vividly refusing to talk about it or leaving and asking my best friend how I was supposed to know who to trust? It’s not like New Orleans where everyone knows someone who knows someone. And I went without knowing a single person and it turned out fine. Even at 18, I knew I had to leave because it was the right choice in the long-run, no matter how hard it was at the moment.
And of course, I know what I have to do, why I’m doing it and all that. I get all these things, but it never does make it easier, does it? Actually I think it’s due to my habit of getting attached to physical spaces (Yes, they really are insignificant, but I tend to grip onto memories. Let go of the past to move forward, I know I know). The first time I lived alone was a summer during college and I was subletting a great little apartment. When I moved out 2 months later, I was actually sad and a little torn. I can’t even imagine how I’ll feel once this apartment is packed up; it’s the longest I’ve stayed in a place for the last 7 years. When my best friend’s family sold their house and moved after the hurricane, I was devastated. I had grown up in that house! I’m not sure why I have this strange connection to an environment.
I suddenly missed my ex tonight. Not him as a boyfriend or a hook-up or whatever a mess we were, but merely for the innocent friendship we had long ago. And then I was missed the last guy I dated, even if he was an asshole. But only for the quick flashes of fun moments. It was short and fleeting and by the time I got home, it was gone. Maybe everything is going so well right now, it’s impossible not to think of that area of my life that I’ve put on hold.
So I had a night of weakness where the idea of staying in a ready-made life was tempting. I don’t cry much, and I really thought I wouldn’t when it was time, but I have a feeling that last week here will be filled with tears. But that’s okay, I think. I can’t be strong and independent all the time.
My solution in college for anxiety and depression and unhappiness was work, which is probably why I became a workaholic. And yeah, it’s 3:20am, but I’m wide awake and not hungry for once and I think work will be just the thing I need to distract me for 30 minutes. Yes, it’s weird and insane. But hey, a girl’s gotta do what she’s gotta do.
[Hm, that was a ridiculous amount of truthfulness and soul-bearing.]
As I mentioned before, I absolutely hate exercising. So when the kickboxing session at the community center ended, I was surprised to find myself joining the Y for more classes. Not only that, I and J boldly joined TWO back-to-back. Anyone who knows me knows this is a milestone. I am actually giving up a good part of the “me and dinner and my favorite tv shows” time that I so look forward to at the end of a long work day. To top matters, I signed up to walk the St. Louis 5K. Clearly, someone has poisoned my hamburger.
The Y classes were vastly different from the ones at the community center. There, we had half of a crowded hot gym of basketball players with loud hyperactive techno remixes and an anorexic thin woman bouncing and yelling at us as we made faces behind her back.
It was a complete shift when I stepped into the small quiet studio with air-condition blasting and no bad music. A bigger surprise? Both instructors of the two classes (Y-Scuplt and Y-Step) were 50-year old overweight women! Both women proved their ability to kick our asses. The mirrors also threw me off; I could no longer make faces at J and instead was forced to look at myself hopping around (I later asked her if she thought the mirrors were skewed because we both seemed to be more slender. A close examination resulted that no, the mirrors were not angled, so it must be our black clothes).
The step class was so hard, so active and so exhilarating that I had the fleeting thought, “I think this instructor needs to be my life coach.” She was cheerful, but not in a peppy cheerleading way; frankly, it felt like a tougher version of Oprah or Mayo Angelou pushing us to our best. I also found out why the air-condition was blasting; we were all in a layer of sweat in 10 minutes. The group of people were also much more diverse; there was actually men stepping and jumping with us. And it wasn’t to pick-up girls; they were there with their wives working together to lose weight. Imagine that.
The pleasant surprises kept coming. In the last 5 minutes, she turned the music to jazz and we cooled down while listening to her soothing voice. In that moment, I reached some strange moment of zen/europhia. It rarely happens despite growing up in a hybrid of Catholicism and Buddahism. I was watching myself in the mirror and feeling like I was in the music montage during a movie and this feeling of absolute peace fell over me.
I’m hurdling through so much change right now that for a moment, I worried that it was a sign that I’m happy with this life in St. Louis. My new job has proven to be an amazing experience for my career growth, but also a really fun environment of great people (I came to this conclusion as I watched one of my bosses push around a stolen grocery cart with two trash cans of ice and beer to celebrate St. Patrick’s, but a minute later, stepped into a conference call with complete professionalism). With everything going so well here, why am I leaving?
I’m not going to lie; I panicked for a moment (my co-blogger Smallbone is going to smack me through her computer screen, all the way from NY). But no worries! I stayed firm on my decision to leave. New Orleans is waiting. Europe is waiting. A city TBD is waiting. My future is waiting. It’s ironic: everything that wasn’t working out that made me want to leave is working smoothly now. That’s the way life works out though, I guess.
So with a good deal of fear tinged with a dash of courage and excitement, I push forward. Now if only I could get a date.
Kidding. Kinda. 
I been hanging around this town on a corner
I been bummin’ around this old town so long
I been hanging around this town on a corner
I been bummin’ around this old town for way too long
-Counting Crows, “Hangin’ Around”
There are times that I fall in love with St. Louis all over again. As much as I’m ready to run out after six years, I will quietly admit that I will miss it. This is the city that I truly grew up in, the place I found my footing as an adult. I savor St. Louis in the hot summers, listening to music under the Arch and cheering on the Cardinals. I became a baseball fan here, loving Red Octobers and watching game after game on TV day after day. In the fall, the city is awash in color as the trees of Forest Park turn a warm red-orange hue. There’s something real about living in a place that has four actual seasons; the summers are sweltering, the falls are brisk, the winters icy and the springs are just right. Those are the moments I think I don’t mind staying.
In this city, I learned to stand on my own emotionally and financially; I feel like I can make a difference. I rely on just myself in the comfortable University City apartment that I love. I’m my own person here: no boyfriend, no parents, no pets. There’s a lot of quiet nights of eating dinner alone, doing work in my little office until late hours and questioning this life I’m so unsure of. Someone once told me people who are sad and unhappy are more likely to reflect often and compare their lives to others. There’s time for idle thinking which leads to over analyzation and little action. Each time I return from a break, my desire and enthusiasm to seize the day wanes after a couple weeks and soon, I settle back into daily life and living with the feeling in my chest that something is missing.
St. Louis is filled with old memories that no longer haunt me as they used to, but they still linger in the corner. I think I’ve experienced every emotion possible in these last years as I struggle to find myself. The day I woke up and realized I had moved on from the past was the day I knew it was time to leave.
This decision is life-changing; St. Louis will no longer be home and I will no longer be always wondering and questioning if I’m truly living life. The thought of leaving sends a surge of bittersweet excitement. Life is comfortable and it would be easy to slip back into living here another five years, but it no longer challenges me. Just like the decision I made for college, this is the right long-term choice. This is one path I will never regret taking.
[Insert new city name], here I come!
