A dramatization of my route so far:
I can’t believe it’s been a month since I left San Francisco. It simultaneously feels like it couldn’t possibly have been that long, and also that it’s been at least three years.
I feel like a completely different person than when I left. I know I’m not. I’m the same old me in a different context. But context is pretty important.
Life is very different when you have no where you have to be at any given moment, and no where you necessarily call home. You look at things differently.
A traffic jam back in San Francisco meant being late to work, or getting home later than you wanted, or being late to meet a friend.
Out here it means turning at the next possible cross street and seeing where that road takes me, even if I have to off-road it a bit to get there.
Not pictured: the cows that kept me company.
Sometimes I’ll be in yet another strange bed, and I’ll think back on the pace my life used to move in San Francisco, and I’ll feel a wave of anxiety roll over me. Like a visceral memory.
I absolutely cannot go back to that life…but I do have to go back to work eventually.
I’ve found a few places I want to explore the possibility of living.
And I’m only halfway through the trip, so others could present themselves.
But I’m wondering if I’ll be able to build a life in these places that wasn’t as stressful as the one I had in San Francisco. I’m wondering how to do that because I honestly don’t know.
I want to bring the version of me I’ve found on this road trip back home, but I think I’m worried she’ll disappear if/when I go back.
I leave Brooklyn tomorrow. So I still have a little time left to figure it out.