I had an absolutely wonderful weekend in Michigan with my boyfriend. We were barely there for 30 hours, but it felt like days. Stress and anxiety melted away in the open air, air that was 70 degrees thanks to a late fall heat wave. It's the beginning of the off season for a Lake Michigan beach town, but we still visited wineries and orchard shops, and found apple cider donuts to bring home. We had no obligations, nowhere to be, only with each other. Even things like "scary house" and finding a wasp in the kitchen were things we could laugh about. (A thousand thanks to Diann again for letting us stay at her place.)
It was a great break from the "hustle and bustle" of the city: the honking, the yelling, the pushing and the everybody-out-for-themselves-and-fuck-anybody-else mentality of the roads, trains and sidewalks of Chicago. Less than 24 hours back in the city, and I'd completely lost any healing relaxation I'd gained. It's so ironic that one of the reasons I moved to this city--the cool convenience of subway transit--is the thing I hate most about my day now. I could just feel my anxiety creep, creeping back up my shoulders.
I'm trying so hard to hang on to that feeling that I had in Michigan--positive, ambitious, energetic. I felt like myself again for the first time in a long time.
I need another vacation. Or maybe another place to live.