Tomorrow, September 25th, marks my 11th year living in Chicago. I moved to Chicago on September 25, 2005 - 5 weeks after having open heart surgery. I was nervous (read:scared) and count it as one of the braver things I've ever done.
In 1995, I had moved to DC when I was 29 years old. My whole life seemed to be ahead of me. It was easy to take on an adventure, then. I formally adopted my nickname as my everyday name because I thought people would think I was interesting and would want to know more about me. I could "re-create" myself into someone who was more outgoing, more fun, even more adventurous. That's easy to do when you are still in your Twenties.
But at 39 years old, I was far more apprehensive and unsure and didn't care for a gimmick that would make me interesting. Mix in with that a rocky medical situation as well as no job prospects and I think anyone would be uneasy. It took me just over two months to get a job, which is laughable today when I think about how I've since gone 5- and 6-times longer than that. I was worried, then, that I might actually have to move back home as a result. But it's amazing what we can accomplish when we just accept our situation and take the first steps forward.
Still, I found it difficult to adjust to living in a different place. I no longer had my familiar group of friends around me; there was only Ashley and this new guy, Kevin. Ashley and his brother were busy opening up Hamburger Mary's in Andersonville, and Kevin . . . well, I wasn't sure what was happening with him. I had just ended a relationship in DC before moving (perhaps a contributing factor to my moving in the first place) and was certain that I didn't want to start anything with anyone new, especially in a new city where I needed to make friends more than I needed a boyfriend.
In DC, I had an identity. People knew me there, they knew my jeep, they knew who I dated, they knew where I worked, where I socialized, where I worked out. DC is small; everyone knows everything about everyone. That's the truth. It's surprising that a town built on secrets really houses very few of them.
It took some time for me to find my footing in Chicago, but find it I eventually did. Little did I know then that Kevin would eventually become The BF, and then my husband and that we'd buy a house and travel the world together. In that 11 years of time, I've lived in 5 places here - 2 with Ashley and 3 with Kevin - and had 5 jobs. Ironically, the exact same number of residences and jobs that I had in the 10 years I lived in DC.
In hindsight, these past 11 years have been perfect. I wouldn't change a thing. I love looking back at my life to see how I've grown. And I do so again today.
Thank you, Chicago, for EVERYTHING!!
In 1995, I had moved to DC when I was 29 years old. My whole life seemed to be ahead of me. It was easy to take on an adventure, then. I formally adopted my nickname as my everyday name because I thought people would think I was interesting and would want to know more about me. I could "re-create" myself into someone who was more outgoing, more fun, even more adventurous. That's easy to do when you are still in your Twenties.
But at 39 years old, I was far more apprehensive and unsure and didn't care for a gimmick that would make me interesting. Mix in with that a rocky medical situation as well as no job prospects and I think anyone would be uneasy. It took me just over two months to get a job, which is laughable today when I think about how I've since gone 5- and 6-times longer than that. I was worried, then, that I might actually have to move back home as a result. But it's amazing what we can accomplish when we just accept our situation and take the first steps forward.
Still, I found it difficult to adjust to living in a different place. I no longer had my familiar group of friends around me; there was only Ashley and this new guy, Kevin. Ashley and his brother were busy opening up Hamburger Mary's in Andersonville, and Kevin . . . well, I wasn't sure what was happening with him. I had just ended a relationship in DC before moving (perhaps a contributing factor to my moving in the first place) and was certain that I didn't want to start anything with anyone new, especially in a new city where I needed to make friends more than I needed a boyfriend.
In DC, I had an identity. People knew me there, they knew my jeep, they knew who I dated, they knew where I worked, where I socialized, where I worked out. DC is small; everyone knows everything about everyone. That's the truth. It's surprising that a town built on secrets really houses very few of them.
In hindsight, these past 11 years have been perfect. I wouldn't change a thing. I love looking back at my life to see how I've grown. And I do so again today.
Thank you, Chicago, for EVERYTHING!!
