Facebook reminded me that 15 years ago, I moved to Seattle. I went to college because it was expected of me. I majored in English because I enjoy reading and writing. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life at the age of 22. All I knew was that I wanted to get out. The Bay Area was expensive. I had been to Seattle twice before in my life and I fell in love with it. I think that I will always have love in my heart for Seattle and the Pacific North West in general. Everything about it is beautiful to me.
At the end of 2010, I made the decision to move. I needed to get out and live my life. I left in February 2011 in my Pontiac with my mom and my dog. When I arrived, I quickly found a studio apartment that I loved (which is good because I spent so much time there). I remember after signing the lease, the apartment manager left and Harley immediately pooped on the floor (thank god it was wood/laminate/whatever). She knew we were home. At least for a while.
Sometimes I think back on that time and it feels like a dream. I had secured a job because my sister worked for a company in Alaska that also had an office right outside of Seattle. It was a foreclosure agency, which is unfriendly in itself, but it was even more unfriendly than any office I’ve ever worked in. My mom was a career woman and she made friends at every office she’d worked at. I thought it was par for the course. Not only did no one in the office talk or hang out, there wasn’t even a lunch room – everyone ate at their desks or in their cars. My boss had said, within my first week there, that if she ever had a baby, she would shake it to death to get it to shut up. I figured out quickly that they didn’t need me to work there. Or anyone. The work I was doing could be completed in approximately 3 hours (5, if I dilly dallied). For the first month, I constantly asked for more work. It became clear to me that everyone made themselves look busy at that office. It’s no wonder they closed down shortly after I left. Sometimes I wonder if that place was some sort of front. “Luckily”, they had auctions everyday so I normally wasted an hour watching that happen (along with one coworker who eventually became obsessed with me and it was very awkward) and could easily waste another 2 hours just walking around the office and using the bathroom. I had never been so bored in my entire life. Thank god for Facebook Messenger so I could message all my friends and have some semblance of a connection.
I moved to a place where I didn’t know anyone and I never did get to know anyone. On my weekends, Harley and I would explore but I never talked to another person in a meaningful way. At 22, I was still deeply insecure, unsure of everything, and desperately needed coaxing to come out of my shell. I didn’t make friends – friends made me. I didn’t come up to people and ask them about themselves. I had to have someone take an interest in me so that I could open up. Was it a mistake to move so far away from everything I knew? I don’t really believe in regret and while that year in Seattle was the loneliest I’ve ever felt (compared only to immediate postpartum), it was also wonderful.
Because I lived in an apartment, I was forced to walk Harley every single day. She loved adventure too, so we’d drive everywhere and go for hours long walks and hikes around Seattle. She was well behaved and loved pets so Pike Place was her dream. I lived on the border of the University District and Wallingford. We’d walk all over that place. There was this super cool gothic store nearby (long gone now) and a tattoo parlor that I started to frequent. My tattoo artist, Emily, was the only person I had any conversations with while I lived in Seattle. I feel like I walked every inch of those two districts as I fell more and more in love with that city. I was lucky enough to have several friends and my sister visit while I was there, but I wish I had known more about Seattle to show them.
Every once in a while, I mourn the girl who lived there. I sometimes wish that things had turned out differently and I could have stayed there and made a life. I tried to find another job (nothing panned out). I didn’t try to make friends (I had no idea how). I never told anyone at home how much I was hurting. I called my dad every single day on my drive home to talk to him and it was the best part of my day. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t moved with Harley. I don’t know that I would have made it without her. I probably wouldn’t have even left my apartment on the weekends if I didn’t have Harley to worry about, which would have been an even lonelier existence.
I moved home after visiting for my grandmother’s birthday. When I arrived back at my empty and dark studio apartment, I broke down in tears. I couldn’t live here anymore. I couldn’t do this anymore. I remember telling my boss I was moving home and that was the first and only time I had seen any sort of empathy from her. She asked if she could do anything to change my mind – that I was a good employee. She said she was sad that I was feeling so lonely and no one knew. Maybe it was a very well acted scene so she could save face, but I took it as kindness anyway. I spent another month in Seattle with the last week and a half being unemployed so that I could properly say goodbye to a city I loved so much. I was mourning a life that I had so desperately wanted but knew that I wasn’t ready for.
As I write about this, tears come to my eyes for the girl I was. I was so incredibly unsure of myself. I was so incredibly insecure. I was convinced no one wanted to be my friend (and since I didn’t make any friends while living there, who’s to tell me I was wrong?). Everything happens for a reason and I know that if I had not moved back, I wouldn’t have met Jacob or started working at the place I’m at now or done any of the growing I’ve done. Who knows? Maybe I would have stayed that insecure girl if I was still in Seattle, slowly digging my own grave (the book Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine is really feeling autobiographical right about now). Maybe I would have finally figured it out and pulled myself out after losing my job since the foreclosure agency closed. Maybe I would have taken a chance and met someone (partner or friend). Life can’t be lived on maybes and I know that now, I am exactly where I am supposed to be…
Writes with Wolves 