Milwaukee Home

It’s been quite the 24 hours.

I quit my job. I failed at book club this month (see also: Summerfest). I enjoyed a really great weeknight(!) with Manfriend. I had a weird day at work. I got new insurance.

I am saying goodbye to so many people. It’s my true intent for that goodbye to be temporary but in the true spirit of this year, I’m giving myself to whatever is coming. I’m trying not to plan too much and follow my guts.

This process is both incredibly scary but incredibly freeing because I’ve learned to trust myself. Similar to that first time you do a handstand, trusting your gut is learning to say over and over and over and over and over and over and OVER again “you got this, what’s there to be afraid of?”

The easy way to deal with this is to say “I’m fine with things the way they are” but that’s NEVER been my M.O. I actively seek criticism and room for improvement. I’m constantly hungry for it.

But something has happened recently. I’m not sure when but I realized that I really do love living in Milwaukee. It is my home. Or rather, my first home. I took a lot of parts of a something that previously made a nothing and it became an incredible everything.

My street, my running paths, my meat counter guy at Whole Foods, my Whole Foods, the secrets I’ve extracted from this city, the people, the food, the bus system, the network, the issues, the way the air feels so close to the lake, the memories on each street, the favorite bars, the things we said. Isolated, none of these elements seem to make up anything but together, they make up my life.

I’m proud of the life I’ve made here. I’m proud to say I live in Milwaukee, something I was iffy on if I’m being completely candid. I’m more sad to leave it than I thought I would be.

All endings are beginnings.

I’m SO excited to start this new chapter of my life but I gotta say, this last chapter was pretty fucking awesome. I think that’s why I panicked a bit when I realized the label on my mailbox was already gone.

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