Two weeks from today, I will be on the road on the way to Boise, probably somewhere on I-70 in Pennsylvania. How did seven weeks turn into 14 days? And how did I accumulate so much stuff in my little bedroom? Reality of the move is setting in. After two years of being out West in my mind, I invested in my DC life over the past 9 months, and now I'm not ready to leave. Despite the noise and traffic and crowds of people, despite the annoying public transit commute and lack of parking, despite the high prices for just about everything and the difficult dating scene, I love it here. I love my friends, who are fun and funny, smart and varyingly intense, who work too much but know how to have a good time, and who have accepted me despite my stupid jokes, inappropriate conversations, occasional retreats into my introverted lair, life indirection, geeky pursuits, general lack of fashion sense, and overall casual awkwardness. I've been told that I'm easy to be around, so maybe that's why they continue to let me tag along.
I love that everything is at your fingertips here, including food, art, and music from just about every ethnicity or culture; movies, theater and dance productions big and small; celebration of LGBTQ culture; wonky political/scientific/global discussions; museums of all kinds; and colorful people. DC can exhibit that well-ingrained East Coast conformism, it's true, but there seem to be enough non-conformists that escape is possible. Speaking of escape, I love that in just a couple of hours, one can drive to the coast, the forests, the mountains, other big cities, and farmland. This is the place for explorers. If I were a big-city girl, I would happily plant roots and stay here forever.
But I don't have the mental or emotional energy for a place like DC. I seem to have inherited a touch of the anxiety disorder that plagues my family, and I'm sensitive to sounds and smells. Sensory overload is something I know well. Although I can ignore the daily noise and commotion of a big city, it wears on my soul. There are too many options in a city like this - how do I choose among all of the fabulous restaurants to find one place to eat?! How do I decide what to do on any given Saturday evening?! How do I connect with new people among all of those rushing to and fro? Cursed with a love of all of these things and a concurrent inability to choose among them, I have accepted that it is time to transition to a slower pace of life, rather than fork over cash every month for the anti-anxiety meds that would enable me to better cope with the constant assault of the cityscape. So I'm moving away, to a place still hopping but calmer, still interesting but not overwhelming. My heart will still be in DC, a place that draws ire from many Westerners. I fully became the person I am while living in DC, so I can never move on completely.
