outlet

It has been 6 years since I started this blog.  It started out as a medium for me to share the kinds of the things I’d previously share out loud with close friends.  I’d just left San Francisco, a place I’d made my identity, and moved back to the place of my birth.  I was experiencing a more intense grief than maybe I’d ever known, and had never thought possible to experience for any loss other than a person.  I’ve never had a hard time sharing my thoughts and feelings- on the contrary, I’m guilty of sharing too much too soon with too many.  I found it to be a welcomed outlet as it was a while before I found new, local friends willing to respond in a meaningful way to me putting myself out there.  I’ll admit, my adherence to documenting my thoughts and feelings has ebbed and flowed over this blog’s existence.  I have been mostly absent from this sounding board thus far this year and I blame finishing up school, and the writing of my thesis, as the primary reason.  But I sit on a plane right now, not engaged with my seatmates (unlike my last flight, on which I talked to the guy next to me the entire time), left to my thoughts that I’ve held inside long enough they must flow out.  It’s a lofty goal for me, given that I’m traveling for the next week and for a few of those days will be staying with my grandpa who doesn’t have internet, but I’d like to post every day for the next week, thinking maybe it’ll jumpstart a more regular posting pattern again and help me catalog my initial purging.

Despite being generally open to share my thoughts and feelings unsolicited, I’ve been rather quiet about the details of my relationship with old flame SF.  I believe what I’ve been holding inside is the culmination of the past 2 years of my life back in SF, thoughts and feelings I’ve not wanted to admit to myself, let alone others.  For those who’ve known me since I first arrived in San Francisco, wide-eyed and naive at the age of 22, you’ll remember I spoke of this city as I would a lover.  It could do no wrong in my eyes.  While wildly different than any place I’d ever lived before and certainly more liberal than I’d outwardly convey discomfort with, I couldn’t get enough.  Why I left I’m not sure I’ll ever really be able to nail down, but looking back I’d venture to say that I needed to.  For anyone who’s ever allowed something to define you other than the very essence of who you are, you may get me when I say it’s an uncomfortable realization that you’ve been high jacked. Leaving, or “stripping”, was one of the most painful things I’ve endured, but also such a vital part of who I am becoming.  Some of my early posts detail part of the journey.  Fast-forward to the day that I found out I’d been accepted to grad school at UCSF and I remember feeling like I’d seen my ex for the first time in years.  All the things that initially made me fall for SF coupled with a fierce resolve to never let a place define me again and a fear of what I might be giving up in order to return left me with a sinking feeling in my stomach.  I braced myself for the second go-round, having minimal expectations.

I can say today that I don’t embrace SF like I did in my first 2 years living here.  Living here again’s been more challenging, dramatic, and gritty than I’d anticipated.  I’m very thankful for the experiences of and what I’ve gained as well as lost over the past 2 years.  But as I’m at a crossroads of sorts with the reason why I returned now satisfied, I’m finally allowing myself to process and come up for air.

“People want San Francisco to stay the same as the day after they got here.”

-       Willie Brown