When I bought my condo in 2017, I did so knowing that it wouldn’t be my forever home. It was undoubtedly a major upgrade for me (in the quality of neighborhood, expenses, and amenities), but I always had a hunch that the town wasn’t really my jam. It felt impermanent on some level, partially because it was the suburbs of Boston and I didn’t have a partner or kiddos to help connect me to my community. But it was truly lovely- the grounds, the quiet, the ease of getting around town. It was a safe, solid space to make a home.
At the end of 2021, while I was discerning my departure from corporate, there were louder rumblings of dissatisfaction about where I was living.
That’s the thing about changing one major thing in your life: it tends to open Pandora’s box about whatever else needs to be shaken up.
I took to 2022 with great enthusiasm for my business (and I am very proud about the ways my business grew that first year), but I couldn’t shake the feeling that more change was coming. My direct neighbors for the last 5 years had moved back to the midwest (they were renting), and the condo was put up for sale. A new family moved in that summer, and they were really disruptive. We shared a wall throughout our homes, and I often found myself frustrated with doors slamming, their youngest child’s frequent tantrums, and the lack of awareness for my witnessing it all.
That summer, I went to visit my friend Lindsay in New Jersey. We were sitting at her pool, chatting away about life as she was on the brink of moving herself. I came into town to help her edit her closet (perks of having a stylist friend), and we got to talking about my own whispers of change, especially with the disruption I felt with the new neighbors. Lindsay often receives intuitive guidance from her spiritual support team, and she shared that I would likely face a move within a year or so. I remember snickering to myself and thinking… Really, that soon??
It may sound like moving was the simple solution to noisy neighbors, but they were really just symptomatic of what was happening with me on a larger scale.
My life did not feel vibrant.
Boston had been a transient place for most of the people in my life. I came in 2001 when many of my (still) dearest friends were also transplants, and once they completed school or met their partners, they moved to a more affordable city or state. It was a common story that I faced many, many times. But I had stayed. Sure, I still had friends, but most of them I didn’t see often. And the pandemic made it infinitely worse. I had opted to work for myself, so daily colleagues were no longer a part of my life. And what became even stranger, while I saw people in my neighborhood often, I barely knew anyone’s names.
I’m a people person- always have been. But this home had made me too insular. I kept to myself a lot. I did my thing. I really grew to enjoy my own company; a skill that served me well during lockdowns and isolations. But, it also just stripped me of any vibrancy I had hoped to have by this point in my life. Large spans of time would pass without dinner companions or dates. I began to dread weekends because they were void of plans, activities, or any kind of engagements. I felt myself growing too inward, like a wilting flower. And this just didn’t feel right. This truth hit me like a ton of bricks.
I went back to Texas for the Christmas holiday. I remember sitting with my mom telling her that I think I needed to move. It felt like the only way I could infuse some kind of spark back into my life. I often had this image of myself on a hospital table, with the crash cart nearby, waiting for the doctor to shock my heart back into action, except I couldn’t wait for the doctor anymore. I had to take matters into my own hands.
I came back to Boston just after the new year, and I called my realtor. Within 2 weeks, my condo was on the market. Big gulp #1. And two weeks later, I had a competitive offer, and I accepted it. Big gulp #2. I scheduled my move out on April 7, Good Friday. Perfect serendipitous symbolism. The old life was dying, and I was about to cross into a major phase of living in the in-between, baby. Resurrection would come.