I cannot believe it’s been so long since I posted to the blog.
I knew adjusting to a completely new life would take a good chunk of my attention, but I guess I didn’t realize how few and far between the moments of downtime would be. Or the fact that when I do have downtime, my brain does not want to form thoughts other than my opinion of the current season of Orange is the New Black.
Anyway, I’m beyond overdue to fill you guys in. So many of you, my lovely and loyal readers, have checked in to see how I’m doing in my new city. I’m so lucky to have such supportive people in my life rooting for me every step of the way! I do not give a single care about how cheesy that sounds because it’s just so true. I feel like I’ve reached the age where it’s much easier to discern who is lifting you up with all their might and who is just standing by waiting to be seen cheering for the good parts.
In case you need a refresher, I moved to Stamford, Connecticut about three weeks ago. In some ways it feels like I just got here, while in others it feels like this has always been my life. It’s a really odd and out-of-body kind of feeling. As if I’m at summer camp or something, but that I’ll be back ‘home’ soon. Maybe this is why I never went to summer camp…
Just kidding. While the feeling is weird, I am embracing it! As many of you know, I’ve gone through a lot of change during my life so far. The biggest life change was hands down being diagnosed with a life-threatening disease, which I think catapulted me into all of the geographical changes that followed. I left the nest of my hometown in Massachusetts to attend school in Florida where I didn’t know anyone, and eventually lived abroad in Spain where I didn’t know anyone, either. So moving from Mass to Connecticut should be a piece of cake, right?
Not so much. It’s so interesting to compare how different these periods of change have all felt from each other. Maybe it’s because college is a finite length of time. Your life is essentially charted out for you during your school years. But this time, there’s no telling how long I’ll stay here or what I’ll do next. It’s both a terrifying and electrifying feeling. It’s also a feeling that I know I won’t ever be able to get back, so I want to make sure I let myself take in all the ups and downs.
While the act of moving is both physically and mentally exhausting and I don’t want to have to deal with it again for about 478 more years, it has felt surprisingly right. Does that mean I feel 100% content all the time and have tons of friends and fit right in? Absolutely not. It’s more that the periods of uncertainty and loneliness aren’t nearly as scary as they once would’ve been. This time, the adjustment period feels strangely good.
This post probably sounds like one of those generic, annoying posts by any other twenty-something girl starting her ‘real’ life, but I’m ok with that. There’s a reason this is a cliché time in a person’s life… it gives you all the feels, as the kids these days say. (How many times did I say the word ‘feel’ in this piece, btw? Don’t actually count, please!)
So I’ll leave you with that super abstract and vague stream of consciousness with the promise that I will update you all on the more concrete aspects of my life soon enough.
For now, though, I’m kinda busy living it.