There is No Going Back

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. 

Independent Movement

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.