It’s my last night in my empty apartment. I’m off to Chelsea tomorrow, for the next chapter in my assessment process that I suspect is leading toward a new career in a new city. This is my last stop on the way to certainty, a chance to think through things from a new perspective, unencumbered by furniture and belongings spilling from closets or by a year-long lease. How do I feel, with all anchors removed, when I go to work in the morning? Do I enjoy the experience without the pressure of needing to keep up the lease, keep up appearances, or do I feel even less connected and decide to break free and do something different? Time will tell.
I’ve loved this apartment. It’s a great place where I grew and learned and got healthy and found peace and got well. I didn’t meet The One (or if I did, nothing came of it yet), and I didn’t move happily into another home, and I didn’t relax on the couch with glasses of wine or throw dinner parties or any of those things that would indicate I was permanently home. I watched the seasons through the windows, and I did the necessary work, and I got to know myself and my body and I made my first big successes. I solved my problems, mainly because I refused to give up and was willing to think out of the box and keep trying.
That’s really all there is to life, I think. Think out of the box and keep trying. Don’t get stuck. Keep moving, keep believing, keep open to what the universe wants to tell you, keep loving and living and giving and thinking and being and find yourself in the end.