Friday night, hanging out at a partner in a law firm's house in Chicago I realize how much "success" and I don't have in common. It's a mix of Asians and Jews on hardwood floor and forty dollar bottles of wine. I am given a scotch flight and argue with the 23 year old intern regarding gay marriage over the legalization of pot. I am easily dismissed since I lack finesse and an education. How could I possibly know anything? Needless to say I rub them the wrong way. This scene I would have dreamed to be a part of in my early twenties. The baby grand piano when you walk in and then modern styling of an old Chicago brownstone; hanging out with the accomplished. I now feel a complete disconnect and disdain their narrow views and judgement.
I cover up my shyness with being loud. This is a hard thing for people to recognize. The rare few that do have been schooled in the various aspects of my personality for years. My Chicago friends tell me of the person I was when they first met me; how confident I was then, how that girl wouldn't put up with the things I did for so long. My past performances were exceptional and that after 10 years they have no idea who I really am. I am petrified and right now feel more alone than ever.
Now, 2 months into my separation from my husband I long for someone to be able to see all of me. He did but didn't know how to reconcile any of it. There is no going back, but I appreciate the rarity of someone taking the time to see through my pomp and circumstance, seeing the vulnerable side and somewhat giving a shit. My strong personality is what makes relationships a struggle. I walk over those who are too easily molded and those who challenge me are too much like me and 2 self involved people don't usually make a successful relationship.
Later that weekend from a 37th floor balcony off Dearborn and Lake I am still astounded by the city's beauty. I still feel embraced by the buildings that reach towards the sky and soothed by the roar of the El. The city is one of the world's great works; a great symphony, a great sculpture and it still can make by heart sing. I realize my love affair with Chicago is over, it had been for quite some time but like a random encounter with a first love it can still stop you in your tracks. I appreciate this city that formed me into the person I am but for now it will have to embrace the big shoulders of another.
I am an expert runner. 5 middle schools, 4 high schools, 8 states and numerous locations within them; sometimes we get so used to change it is impossible for us to ever develop roots. When I turned 18 and I was in charge of my own relocation(s) I became an expert of removing myself from uncomfortable situations. It usually took a couple tanks of gas and a month to month lease. My constant bouncing from one place to another was encouraged by friends that found this behavior, "daring" and "adventurous" and "brave". I usually developed more of a relationship with the city/state I lived in than with the people in it.
My second stint in Salt Lake, I didn't want to leave but like most habits/addictions you do them anyway even if you want to quit, so I moved to Wisconsin. I grew in Wisconsin. I married a man I met in Wisconsin. I kept my first 12 month lease in Wisconsin. I am getting divorced in Wisconsin. I gave a lot of myself here, Wisconsin changed me.
The first time I ever stepped foot in Wisconsin, I was 17. I was visiting my brother in Chicago and he wanted to drive up to Milwaukee and take photographs. It was March and the mugginess of Chicago did not join us when I opened the door of the car and was hit by a blast of cold air. The streets were relatively empty and the gray sky made the buildings ominously beautiful. There is a loneliness to Milwaukee on a gray day and I felt a kinship with it immediately.
Before we headed back south we drove aimlessly until we found a place to take a pit stop. There was a grocery store on a hill. Almost like a monument. "They call their grocery stores Pick N Save??? That's awesome!!" Stupid things give me a thrill sometimes. They always have. I walked in and they were playing Brahms overhead and I found the Produce section especially well organized. I don't know why but it left an impression. As we drove away, I remember telling my brother that one day I would come back to Wisconsin and buy something from that grocery store, Pick N Save. Little did I know that in less than 10 years my life would take me back there and I would be living within walking distance from that exact store.
* * * *
"So what's the plan? Where are you off to next?" Is the question I have been asked the most after hearing about my divorce. I am encouraged to move to any of the numerous places that I've lived previously and still have contact with people there. I can hear the anticipation in some of their voices wanting to live vicariously from any rash decision I may make. I hadn't even considered leaving...seriously anyway. I even got this question from people in Wisconsin. I finally asked why everyone thinks I am wanting to leave. ..."BECAUSE YOU HATE WISCONSIN", was the resounding reply. This bothered me because I didn't think I hated Wisconsin. I didn't want to convey something I didn't even know I felt.
"You don't have to hate Wisconsin just because your life fell apart there." This hit me like a ton of bricks. I realized that I "hated" Wisconsin because I was mad and hurt about my divorce. I "hated" it because it always challenged me out of my comfort zone and made me face my fears and insecurities. I really "hated" it because I didn't necessarily want to leave. I felt betrayed by the place that clipped my wings and didn't give me anything back. I knew that if I was ever going to break my cycle of running I had to take a stand and at least commit to developing a home base. This caused my gypsy soul to scream and thrash in protest and I feel like half of me is disappointed. Wisconsin makes me feel raw. It represents all the wants that I haven't explored and that make me feel vulnerable. Wisconsin says to me, "I will take your sarcasm and your walls but I want every other part of you that you've ignored and pretend like it doesn't exist."
* * * *
"Oconomowoc"
"Menomonee Falls"
"Waukesha"
Laughter erupts from the back of the car as I try to phonetically pronounce the names of the cities we drive past. I am starting a new journey in another location in the United States. I ignore the taunting. I am too mesmerized by the water towers that boast the mysterious names and the new scenery that is full of possibility. The scenery reminded me of a never ending road trip with hundreds of places I wanted to stop just because; exploring and listening to stories of the people who lived in the homes with the manicured lawns.
We pull up to an apartment complex behind a Family Video. This is going to be my home. I saw the pictures online and as I walk up the stairs I realize how large my new home will be and I feel an incredible weight in my stomach. The spaciousness carried with it responsibility. I felt nauseousness that I would be discovered as a fraud, and I wouldn't be able to live up to the expectations that this perfect piece of Americana embodied.
My relationship with Wisconsin started cautiously, I bought travel books, books by the naturalists, guides to hiking and biking trails and set out. On my long commute into Milwaukee from West Bend I was mesmerized by the community storytelling 88.9 FM and knew I wanted to be a part of this community. I remembered the lonely buildings and streets from when I was 17 and wanted to fight for it. To be a part of the grit. I did and I loved it. My friend from out of state came to visit and as we were driving through downtown Milwaukee we turned to each other and said, "Now this is what a city looks like."
I would take walks along the beach in Port Washington and ride my bike up to Eden. I would hike and snowshoe through the Kettle Moraine. Bonfires and fish fry in Washington county, the observatory in Lake Geneva, driving past small farms with red barns; I looked at these with wonder and warmness.
I want that feeling back, but like ex-lovers that are trying to rekindle a romance there is distrust and fear and awkwardness. It's like restoring an antique; through the proper time, care, patience it can be as good as new. My relationships with the places I live can be just as tumultuous and/or pleasurable than the ones I have with the people in it. Anyway, Wisconsin...after all my bumbling verbosity, what I am trying to say is best said by John Cusack from the state that I had an awesome relationship with before you...Here it is...
The first time I stepped out onto the Sheridan Drive, truly by myself, was amazing. If you've never smelled Chicago in the fall you are missing out. Chicago is a city made of brick and it absorbs the energy of the city. The smell makes you feel like a native and that you are part of something special. That walk from Pratt to the Loyola redline stop would be my home stretch for years to come. I never felt such confidence in myself and optimism about my future as I did then. I remember the sun shining brightly, reflecting off sidewalk, me making eye contact with everyone I passed and giving them a sincere smile. Confidence like that is contagious you know. It makes you infectious.
As confident as I was I was still an outsider. Awkward and young. I remember my brother taking me to Michigan Ave when I was 16 and me being mesmerized by the beautiful women in sleek coats and Burberry scarves, smoking and walking. They were so poised and moved quickly. I loved being jostled on the street. At 16, I decided to wear heels on this walking tour of Chicago as that's what you did when you were trying to act sophisticated. This was an obvious mistake not only did it start raining but I had a hard enough time keeping up with my 6'1" brother as it was. My feet have never been the same. At 17, I purchased my very own sleek coat. It was Kenneth Cole and there were tags sewn onto one of the sleeves. Being naive I left them on there and when my brother took me to a high end consignment shop in Wicker Park I was mortified when one of the girls very nicely asked me if she could cut them off for me.
This time would be different though, I was 20 now. I had been on my own! I moved around the country like a vagabond. I was now an expert on packing all my belongings into my 1997 Mitsubishi Mirage and could read maps and navigate this country with ease. I was still awkward but this time I was armed with boldness.
