Living in between.
My new apartment and a new feeling of being "here."
For the past four months I’ve felt like I’ve been living in between. Living neither here nor there.
At the end of October, after over three years of living nomadically, I “finished” my travels, flew back to Chicago on a one-way ticket, and accepted a full-time job.
But, in the four months since, I haven’t really been “here.” Not yet. I was living in a friend’s spare bedroom. I was living off of a designated shelf in the cupboard, a designated shelf in the fridge, a borrowed bed, a borrowed pillow, a borrowed towel. All of my things were still in storage at my mom’s. I couldn’t join a gym because I had no idea what part of the city I’d end up in (and, let’s face it, the only way you’d get me to a gym is if it’s convenient to home). I couldn’t shop for furniture because I didn’t know if I’d end up in a one bedroom or a studio, if I could splurge on a queen bed or would have to make due with a twin. I’d been wearing the same four dresses and one pair of boots everyday, still living out of a backpack.
I was neither here nor there. I was neither traveling nor settled.
I was living in between.
And it was depressing.
Don’t get me wrong: I had a great living situation and am grateful to Katie for letting me stay with her (and her cats!). And I’ve actually loved working. I love my job. I love my company. I love my coworkers.
But I felt off and had little motivation for anything other then Netflix.
The whole situation made me feel like I was back in my twenties. In that state where I didn’t know what I wanted, what I was doing. When I didn’t travel and didn’t move and lived with my parents for way too long. When I cried way too often and did nothing but work, watch TV, and sleep.
But, at least, this time, it was only temporary.
This weekend I started moving into my new apartment. It’s a one bedroom in the Lincoln Square neighborhood of Chicago.
I’m living close to bars, restaurants, coffee shops, shopping, a gym, and public transportation.
It’s an old apartment, it’s a little crumbly, but I like it. There’s a lot of space. There are a lot of windows that bring in a lot of light. There are pink tiles in the bathroom. There are lots of closets waiting to be filled.
It’s a blank canvas that I’m excited to decorate just how I want.
I’ve already brought over everything I had with me. I’ve already bought some new things and made entirely too many trips to Target. I’ve even already ordered my perfect teal couch (though it will take at least 8 weeks to be delivered…)
I’m hoping that all of this brings me out of my funk. I’m hoping that I’ll finally start feeling settled because I will be settled. I’m hoping that I stop feeling like I’m living in between and more like I’m just living. That I’m here.