maybe i don’t need to rebuild my life every six months…

Jun 15

The past few years of my life have been spent stepping into a revolving door and getting spit out somewhere new, disoriented, and distraught.

I can still hear my mother incessantly singing in my ear that as one door closes, another one opens; I guess I took that as permission to seek out whole new corridors. To this day, my favorite corridors are the ones where I have to start from square one. Get a new job, lasso up some new friends, and try every cafe to find the best soup (Wildberry Cafe in Limerick, Ireland still holds reign)... But, the worst part is looking over my shoulder at the long hallway behind me and seeing that my previous life can no longer be reached.. That door I closed on my own.

Yet, the sheer thrill of something new, accompanied by unescapable change, is an emotion that I find myself craving after I’ve witnessed X amount of full moons. This yearning for change has impacted my lifestyle, I’ve noticed. It’s as simple as making sure my entire life can fit inside two suitcases, allowing me to move wherever and whenever I need. But here I am in Philadelphia with my old cat (I’ve had her since I was 10), a stable job (which I love so much), and my utmost favorite color embodied in the form of a vintage love seat my sweet boyfriend got me. All of these permanent things, and the urge to squeeze my life into a suitcase has yet to appear.

Leading up to the end of my current lease, I’ve been writing pros and cons lists on at least every other journal page. Holding the weight of leaving this life that I have become so fond of in one hand, and the euphoric feeling of walking into a new life and endless possibilities in the other. However, each time I rewrote, I found that the lists were even; I was embedding my bias into every new line. There are things here that I, for once, do not feel a pull to run away from, things that I planted here and I want to watch grow. I’m having a hard time admitting this, as up until now, a year is enough for me somewhere, often too long. But now, I find myself actually considering the possibilities lying on the other side.

Ya wanna know what the tipping point is?

First, look at some pics of my 14-year-old cat <3

Something I hadn’t really considered before is that ending a pattern is its own kind of change. My journal has heard all about the things I want to change in my life — I won’t go off on a tangent, but I promise I’m looking at this positively. Sometimes, I get so stuck focusing on one big thing that needs to change — what I call Change 1 — that everything else I want to shift feels dependent on getting Change 1 done. I often get frustrated with myself for not accomplishing Change 1, and start thinking the only way to do it is to force a massive change, so big that Change 1 naturally fits inside it. For me, that looks like packing up my entire life and starting over. But now, I want to try a different approach — to be less harsh on myself and give space for other changes to happen alongside Change 1. I feel that working on these smaller goals can bring new experiences and confidence, which might even make it easier to tackle Change 1 later.

(Please forgive me for how many times I said the word change in that paragraph… 12 )

So, I got a new apartment here in Philly – somewhere still new enough to prevent boredom, and also giving me space to delve deeper into my life here, something I’ve never really gotten a chance to do as an adult before.

Already in my time in Philly, I have controlled a lot of vices within myself and experienced in real time how much more rewarding a slow-burn type of happiness is, one that truly grows from hard work and loyalty to my actual self. So, I also want to give myself a bit more time to grow in this actually rewarding environment that I have built. Not only is there a restart that happens when you move somewhere, but there is also a sense of new personality, especially when you don’t know anyone or anything, and people are such an influence on who you are and what you do somewhere. And while each time I move, I get a chance to discover new things about myself, it also sort of brings a cloud of confusion over who I am, and what parts of myself were really me, versus a reflection and adaptation to a temporary environment.

Not to mention that I still feel new to the city, there are places I have not been, and so so so many people I want to meet! I still want to find a bar where I can meet a friend for pool weekly and take this dang writing (and a motorcycle) class, I want to continue to go to salsa dancing lessons with my boyfriend, and maybe watch a baseball game. I’ve already started snnizzling my way into different communities, experiences, and groups who inspire me to change. So, basically, I am excited for this upcoming year of change through my own growth, one that I have yet to see.

But!!! This is not to say that in a year, I won’t be ready for another BIG change, because I know myself and my love of the mystery corridors behind the revolving door. I know I will. The process of establishing myself, not just in motion but in stillness, is new to me; the person I am right now (who I like very much) is new to me as well. So, I’m pausing before the next spin in the revolving door- not out of fear, but because this moment feels worth lingering in for a bit more.