I moved into a new city just a little over two years ago now. I brought with me a familiarity and affinity for my new town. But on a practical level, I came alone and without a job. It was truly a leap into the unknown and as such it was energizing and overwhelming all at the same time.

My first year was mostly consumed by working to find steady employment. While I didn’t have a job lined up when I moved, I did have a couple of interviews which I was then currently in the process of. I thought for sure that one of these interview processes would inevitably lead to a job offer. Sadly, I was wrong. A lengthy trip out to the suburbs for an awkward final round interview with a start up left me feeling weird. Soon enough a rejection followed. The rest of that year is a swirl of networking events, online classes, application portals, job boards, and Zoom interviews. I did part time work at Target to get by in the meantime, taking the bus two hours out to shop bedraggled suburbanite’s online orders for them. Finally, my streak of unemployment broke and I was able to secure a full-time position that could keep me afloat. While my job is often toxic, I am grateful to have it, especially when reflecting back on that long period of uncertainty.

It did take me longer than expected, once I was back in the office full time, for my body to acclimate to my new schedule. I made attempts to spend time with some of my new coworkers socially, but found them to be judgmental and with a set of aesthetic preferences and values totally different from my own. This made me feel even more lonely.

Disheartened and alienated in my new job by being surrounded by a shallow social scene that moved faster than I could keep up with, I retreated into my self for a bit. For a brief time, my life was a numbed out and tasteless repetition of work, sleep, and chores. When I did start to go out again, it was on my own. It started with a poster I saw on a long walk advertising a small jazz concert in the courtyard of a historical mansion. I immediately knew both that I wanted to go and that I had no one to go with. So, I did the logical thing and went alone. While I felt awkward surrounded by couples and friend groups, once the show started, I became absorbed into the music and all of the social comparison floated away and became irrelevant.

This kicked off a pattern of taking myself out. Movie theaters were my favorite because I loved the comfort of the enveloping darkness and anonymity of the theater. It gave me a way to exist in public that didn’t feel intimidating or make me feel self-conscious. And movies have always given me comfort, but moving and restarting my life had taken me away from this simple pleasure. Making time again for movies my first small step moving out of survival and maintenance mode. I was finally beginning to make my new city home.

Once I started to become more comfortable and at ease in my surroundings, I began going to events designed to meet people. And now, from that, I have some wonderful friends and a schedule that keeps me busy. But before I had the bandwidth to do that, I had to take myself out, alone, just to remember that it was worth it.