The pandemic helped me let go of DC
The thing is.. if a pandemic had to happen (and for some god-awful cosmic reason I guess it did), I’m glad it happened while I’ve been here, living in Chicago.
Maybe I can even go further than that: The pandemic made me come to terms with leaving DC, and helped me understand that, for where I am now and how my life is currently, Chicago is a better place for me to live.
I say this knowing full well that, on some level, DC is probably always going to be a better “fit” for my particular personality and for how I see myself. DC is wall-to-wall full of smart, ambitious, highly educated young people who all moved from somewhere else and who are all naturally inclined to care about politics and big nerdy ideas.1 It’s as if the city contained only people who ran for student council in high school, and no one else. Maybe it’s obvious that this would become insufferable on some level, but I can’t deny that it’s more “me” than not.
But be that as it may, Sam and I moved here to Chicago in the fall of 2018. We had just 18 months of Chicago living before the pandemic arrived. It was enough time to gain a few friends and get a sense of the neighborhood — but it wasn’t enough time to actually let go of my old life. It was enough time to find a new favorite Chicago coffee shop / bar / bookstore / park / etc., but at heart I still much preferred my old favorite DC one.
And then the pandemic really changed things, didn’t it? It forced a turn inward for all of us, certainly. And loving one’s city or loving one’s job really wasn’t enough to sustain a person through everything we’ve experienced these last two years. To the extent one could get by feeding off the energy of a place — always staying busy and meeting people and taking in whatever a city had to offer — that wasn’t really possible when the energy everywhere went to zero. Here in Chicago, I was left to think about what I wanted to do and how I wanted to live — regardless of the particular shape or feel of the city I was living in. It’s taken some time, and I don’t know that I can really pinpoint any one moment that changed things. But the last two years have helped me calm down a bit. That’s probably the best way I can put it. Calm down and don’t try to do everything. Be less anxious about what’s out there, take pause, and just . . . know that it will be ok. Life is long, there is lots to do, and in time, you’ll get to the things that really matter. This city is impossibly huge and diverse and full of more than I could ever hope to experience. I can’t pretend to know the “feel” of Chicago itself — I can only say that here, right now, living this life, this city gives me the space and the freedom I need to push myself in the direction I want to go. I’ll get there eventually. Maybe that sounds too mushy and trite. Not sure I know how to say it differently.
Don’t get me wrong — I’m not about to say Chicago is better than DC in all respects. The city is so large and sprawling. It’s frustratingly car-centric in a way that DC never was.2 I wish people met up for happy hour more. And I wish there were better parks beyond just the lakefront. But there are trade-offs in everything. Chicago is edgier and has more going on and people have more diverse stories about why they’re here and what they’re doing. There are drag queens and magicians and improv actors and writers and artists and just a wider variety of people here. The trains run a hell of a lot better. It’s not utterly impossible to snag restaurant reservations or concert tickets. More meaningfully, it’s closer to home and my life here has a greater feeling of permanence about it. Those are big things.
In 2022, as I sit here in Chicago, the memory of my favorite things from my time in DC is more meaningful to me than the hope/fantasy/daydream of what it would be like to return there. I’m happy to remember DC fondly, but I don’t need to return to it in order to fulfill some sort of unmet existential need. I think it’s taken me three and a half years to be able to say that and really mean it.
Admittedly, every major American city is like this to a certain extent. I <3 cities, in case it wasn’t obvious.
This also means there are actually places to park a car if you have one. It’s not the worst thing.
I was shocked at the lack of happy hour meetups when I moved here.
Loved this post! I have felt so much of this, but you’re way better at expressing it coherently.