#chicagoamanda

We change. As people, we grow. Our personalities twist, our character configures, even our morals and values sometimes turn a complete 180 (sometimes even a complete 360 depending on what the value is and the length of the time frame). Sometimes, we don't even see the changes until we reflect on the days gone by, and on the other hand at times we can feel the change as it happens. Sometimes we make choices that we know will force change, or they are choices caused by change.

I have embodied all of these changes. In the last two years alone I have evolved (and de-evolved, un-evolved?) so much. I planned the change. I mean I didn't sit there with a calendar and pencil in what dates I would accomplish what, but I knew with a serious of very calculated (yea, not really calculated at all) choices I would be forcing change. Oh how I needed it. The journey was a steep climb, a steep climb with several pitfalls between each step, but I have to say that I love the person I've become, and I regret nothing that has happened in between. I moved on whim. The glass floor that was holding up my life shattered beneath my feet and I ran. I chose a place that I thought could support my rebirth based on the fact that if I got too scared I could take a 4 hour bus home and be fine, I chose Chicago. It was close to home and it came with what I thought was a support system. I was wrong about the latter but each person has to go through their own journey, sometimes parts of the journey on their own. Moving here was the best choice I think I'll ever make.

My first year out here I lived the only way I though I knew how, I partied too much, hung out with some questionable people, did some very questionable things, but in that first year I made some of the best friends I've ever had. I was able to be anyone I wanted to be with these new people, and I was everyone. I was the other woman, I was the girl with the iron liver, I was the chick who'd walk into a bar with my trusty sidekick and leave a few hours later accompanied by a hipster boy, or two. I was on top of the world, but I was also the girl who had finally learned to cry, I was also the girl who would go days on end without anything to eat but for a fifth of jameson and some greasy bar food, I'd wake up each morning (or afternoon) feeling empty, sometimes ashamed of how I had acted. I felt the consequences and the repercussions of my actions like I never had before, I was "living the dream" but also reaping the nightmarish rewards. Then shortly before my one year anniversary in my new home my seemingly perfect glass life shattered around me again, and the situation I found myself in propelled my next series of changes, and with good reason. It finally hit me that I had to stand on my own and start facing the music. I was hiding behind all the negativity and angst that I had been feeling for years. I was making excuses for my behavior by saying I was owed something. I was wrong. 

I just wrapped up with my second year in the city, and its been amazing. Better than I could ever have hoped for. The first few months were rocky, I cut back on my partying, cleaned up my act, and even started dating. I could be found at home at night instead of the bar, I suddenly had money again instead of always being broke, I had roommates that I felt comfortable being around, that didn't add to my self destructive criticisms and negative self worth. Then, I met Nathan. To love, and be loved. That really is the greatest gift of all. Through this love I have felt and been shown a world I previously could not imagine. A world of Christmas eve dinners on the floor in front of a (albeit fake, thank you netflix) fireplace. A world of daily adventures in my big beautiful city. Most importantly? A world where suddenly I've started to plan for the future again.

Moving sucks. But its not the packing that bothers me. Its not the physical labor of hauling box after box up and down multiple flights of stairs in two separate places that makes me cringe. Its the memories I unearth, its the person I'm forced to leave behind. Every time I walk away from an apartment, a house, a life...I walk away from a part of me.