Life is weird. The choices we have to make to navigate that weirdness are challenging. The change that follows the choices is jarring. Then we adapt and get comfy… until life starts to feel weird and the cycle begins again. That’s the thing about cycles– they’re cyclical. They’re a loop, an expansive ocean of highs and lows.
I think the turbulence of every person’s waves are independent and blind to any comparison of another’s ocean. We only know the depth of our own life cycles, but we can take some solace in knowing that we’re all cycling together.
It has been a minute since I’ve written or shared a blog post. I apologize for dropping off with more of my story left to share, but keeping my head above water throughout the choices and change became all-consuming.
For those of you who don’t know, I moved out of Chicago. I’ve known for a few years (which really says something seeing as I only lived there for four) that I needed to leave that city. To be frank, it did not want me there. It had been telling me to leave since I arrived. But I’m stubborn, and I’m strong, and I didn’t want to admit that the city was chewing me up.
I also grew to love a handful of people who Chicago accepted– people who are happy and comfortable calling it home. And those people made living there better. They made me feel safe and loved; so coming to the decision that I needed to move away from them made me sick. I quite literally was hospitalized with an infection while this was all going down.
When I was discharged from the hospital, I had a month left on my lease before I was set to leave the city and move home to Michigan. I couldn’t work in that time because I couldn’t walk. Couldn’t go out with friends because I couldn’t physically keep up with them. Chicago was showing me itself without the people I needed in order to survive it. I was confined to my bed with my thoughts for my final month in this place where I lived the heaviest challenges of my life. Knowing that I was accepting defeat and retreating to the security of my parents’ home. Knowing that I know so little– that I don’t know what I want to do or where I want to be or who my tribe is.
I’ve been home for two months now, and I’m not much closer in figuring any of that out. I’m riding my life-waves, trying to catch glimpses of what’s coming, but I can’t see it. When I think I’ve seen something to swim towards, doubt (whether it be my own or infiltrated through another person’s opinion) pulls me down faster than I can add buoyancy. But I’m still here, I’m still moving forward, and I am accepting of the knowledge and self-awareness I’m collecting along the way. I’m getting a lot of practice in asserting myself to honor who I know myself to be. I think that’s more valuable than I credit it for– sticking up for yourself with confidence. It’s a life skill that I’m grateful to be honing, and carrying with me as I cycle through the ups and downs of life and the choices it presents.
I know this whole blog is about going up and up, but that’s definitely not to say that there aren’t downs. The downs are part of this too. We’ve all got em.