Ode To An Old Life

Have you ever heard that saying, “Your new life can’t begin until your old one ends,” and thought Jesus Christ that is morbid? You might still be in your old one, or maybe you just haven’t experienced your early 20s yet.

But when you lose your job, your relationship, and your living arrangement within the span of one hellish December week, that phrase transforms from an insufferable cursive message on a wooden farmhouse sign to a holy mantra. You have to repeat it just to remind yourself that there are better things ahead, which doesn’t feel very true these days. It’s a coping mechanism, yes, but to cope is to survive.

The sh*t hit the fan, so to speak, and I found myself stuffing my life into my tiny car and driving home. It’s a canon event to experience the “failure to launch.” It’s like food service – I genuinely believe that everyone should go through it at least once in their youth. It’s formative and motivational because you’re faced with a crossroads the likes of which you’ve never seen. If you’re tied to nothing (schooling, partner, job, etc), you have near full control over where your life goes next. It’s not as freeing as it sounds.

So I gave myself a goal, and that was to go somewhere. Literally anywhere. All I had to do was find a place where the rent wasn’t atrocious and the environment was nice. I’d always loved Chicago despite only seeing it in the dead of winter, so I figured I’d love it year-round. It was where I needed to be, so I set out to make it happen. I told myself that I’d go as soon as I saved up three months’ worth of living expenses.

Hoping to rebound from my layoff, I fruitlessly applied to marketing and writing positions. With the job market looking so bleak for everyone I knew, I picked up a retail gig as a sales lead. I worked as many hours as possible and saved every penny for six months. Note: I would not have been able to do this so quickly if I didn’t have the privilege of a supportive family. Having a parent you can live with makes a world of difference.

The minute I hit my savings goal, I signed a lease sight unseen for a studio apartment in Chicago. I booked the U-Haul, packed up my life once again and convinced my older brother to make the drive from North Carolina with me. My family showed up one by one throughout my first three weeks in town to build up my immunity to homesickness, along with installing door chains and building shelves.

So, now I’m here in my new apartment, feeling extra lucky that I have a good view from my window to watch the rain. My old life ended so abruptly, and the transitional six months felt like limbo. It was a necessary rebirth that wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t have some sh*t luck last year. I don’t mourn my old life in any capacity, I just get angry thinking about the time I might’ve “wasted” when I could have been starting over. That’s the kind of pointless thinking you have to abandon.

You don’t have to wait for unforeseen circumstances to force you into change, but most of us would rather not walk willingly into the unknown. Rebuilding is an easier choice when there’s nothing to build around, and harder when some demolition is required. It’s even more challenging to work around existing structures in your life that you want to keep intact. Nonetheless, if you find yourself without direction or going in a direction you don’t like, I urge you to picture your new life. What’s there, and more notably, what isn’t? That’s when you start to understand the components of your old life that should be left behind. It’s also when the new one begins.