This is about to be the most honest thing I've ever written on this blog. Also the longest? If you're just here to find out my announcement just hop on down to the bottom and skip over my feelings/freakout/crazyily poorly written narrative on my thoughts.
Things are happening. Big things. Things that have been in the works for months and I've kept them hidden from you and the internet and the world outside of a select few.
A few months ago I realized I don't belong in Seattle anymore.
It was a really big decision and it took a lot to admit. My plan was always to live here for five years, get the promotion I've been working towards, and then eventually move home. Tie it up with a bow and call it a wonderful life plan. My boyfriend and I were going to rock at long distance, my family was going to keep it together with out me, and I was going to make oodles of new friends on the West Coast and “discover myself.” Whatever the hell that means.
I still don't even know what I expected or what I was looking for or why I did it. All I know is I came here. My mom and I packed up everything I owned and moved me across the country. Without knowing a single soul. I stayed with my Aunt's best friend (who would later become my adoptive west coast family) for the first week and found an apartment. After a week of getting used to having my mom there, a comfort blanket of sorts, I went off to Denver for orientation at my big girl job and returned to find my new home mom-less. I was alone.
Which is what I wanted. Or so I thought. It was going to be an adventure. I thought. It was going to be fun and games and unicorns and twilight. I thought.
I was going to figure out who I am, who I am by myself. Without my amazing boyfriend, my family, my friends. It was sink or swim. And so I swam. In my almost three years of living in the Pacific North West I've done AMAZING things. I've grown. I've proven my worth and my strength to the person who needed to learn it most… Me. I've felt lost and alone and homesick. I've felt excited and energized and loved. I've felt so, so loved. (omg, I'm going to start crying just writing this all down.)
I've made best friends (of both the furry and human variety). I've made long-lasting bonds. I started a blog. I wrote. I deleted. I tried again. There were days when all I wanted to do was cry and hug my mother. There were days when I did cry and learned to hold myself together.
I've visited amazing places. Places I never thought to dream of. I've walked on a glacier, I've jumped off a bridge, I've hitch-hiked a jet-ski ride (it was totally safe I promise mom), I've completed a half-marathon, I've skied, I've zip-lined, I parasailed over Puget Sound, I've flown a crazy number of miles on too many different airlines. I turned 22. Then 23. Then 24. I've grown. Seattle forced me to grow.
But the hardest part, the part that forced me to grow the most, the part that made me cry and broke my heart and kept me up at night for weeks… was deciding it was time. Time to leave.
To be honest, making this decision was such a process. It was something I had been thinking about for weeks and kept to myself because I couldn't dare utter the words out loud. I couldn't see what else Seattle had to teach me. I felt stuck. I felt like I was trapped and in this weird in-between stage because I knew Seattle wasn't where I was going to be forever and I had made a core group of friends but I wasn't going to put down roots here and it was getting past the exploration phase. That was never what I wanted. So on a rainy Saturday night when I got a text from Frankie saying something to the effect of “I really want you to move home” I felt everything shift. I cried for a night and got no sleep and freaked out and finally the next morning I called him and very eloquently (not eloquently at all) said something to the effect of “ILL MOVE HOME. GIVE ME SIX MONTHS AND I WILL MOVE HOME. ILL TALK TO MY BOSS AND SEE IF I CAN TRANSFER AND IF I CAN'T I'LL QUIT MY JOB AND MOVE HOME.”
That was the first time I said it out loud and it snowballed into this feeling of rightness. Moving back was the right decision.
Anyone who knows me will understand how much anxiety I had over the “change in plans.” I HATE CHANGE. I LOVE PLANS. It freaked me out. Like OMG MY THROAT IS CLOSING UP kind of freaked out (which happened to be a common occurrence over the last 5 months). And it made me feel like I failed. And I'm sure some people will judge me for that and some already have and that's okay. I've accepted that. It was really hard to accept, and if I'm being totally honest I've spent a lot of time settling this with myself. That it's okay to leave. You're not “failing.” You're not “giving up.”
I spent countless hours crying to my best friends, the saints that they are, on the phone (side bonus – another skill that moving across the country gave me – I'm AWESOME at talking on the phone for hours now!) about my feelings and what everyone else will think. I would go back and forth from being so scared to so excited in a flash. And they were there. I can not thank them enough. There are no words for how amazing those girls have been. When my boyfriend was tired of hearing me cry and freakout (or when I just didn't want to scare the crap out of him), my top dudes were there.
One of the things that they have ingrained in my brain in these phone conversations is that it's not failing. I think it was LJ who told me, “do you realize how proud of you I am? So what you didn't make it five years?! You made it THREE. That's crazy and so hard and I don't know how you did it. Most people wouldn't have made it one year and you made it three. BY YOURSELF. ALONE. SO FAR AWAY. You didn't fail, you succeeded.” Naturally, I cried hysterically and was reminded of how much I truly believe Carrie was right in saying our girlfriends are our soul mates (sorry Frankie).
I reminded myself of what Laura said every day for weeks and came to accept my own decision. It's not failing, it's starting a new chapter.
Once I accepted that I felt relieved. I felt like a weight that I had no idea I had been carrying around was lifted off my shoulders. Like I could be excited. I gushed about how happy I was to be getting closer to my boyfriend and my family and my friends. I could cry about how happy I am to be getting closer to those girls.
The relief stage only lasted for about 20 seconds. Then all the anxiety and stress hit me. I had to tell my boss. I had to tell my family. I had to keep it underwraps because heaven forbid I tell everyone and then I have to hear all of their negative opinions, because OBVIOUSLY that would be the worst.
My boss completely understood and did some prompt research for me and basically came back and said we have to wait if you want to transfer until August to see which offices need people. I said OKAY two months. I CAN DO THAT. Except in order to do that it meant thinking about it at least once of every hour of every day of both months.
It was two months of me telling family and friends and having them be SO EXCITED AND WE JUMPED UP AND DOWN TOGETHER AND FREAKED OUT and then realized we had to wait till AUGUST.
But then August came without any news and it turned into waiting for the postings to happen in September… then October.
It was months of just me freaking out on everyone. If death by overwhelmed-word-vomit were a thing I'm SURE my boyfriend, my mom, my dad, and my best friends would all be dead. Thank god it's not.
A typical day would go from me waking up saying OMG ONE DAY CLOSER. to OMG IM GOING TO BE UNEMPLOYED. to OMG IM GOING TO BE FUNEMPLOYED. to OMG no be calm Ash, you're probs getting the transfer. to OMG IM GONNA BE FUNEMPLOYED AND HAVE TO MOVE ALL MY CRAP ACROSS THE COUNTRY, HOW MUCH CAN I MAKE OFF OF A BIKE WITH TWO FLAT TIRES ON CRAIGSLIST. to I bet I'll get the transfer and they'll move my stuff for me. to IF I DONT GET THE TRANSFER ITS A SIGN I SHOULD TRY MY HAND AT WRITING. then no ash you're gonna get it. breatheeeeeeeeeee. then right before bed it would be like OMG I CANT WAIT TO GET TO CUDDLE WITH MY BOYFRANNNND EVERYNIGHT so happy.
That was my life for four months. Then they posted the jobs and my life was like OKAY HOW DO I MAKE MYSELF LOOK SO GOOD THAT THEY WILL LET ME MOVE. I applied. then waited two weeks for the position posting to close. Then I faaahhhhreaked out for a few weeks about why they hadn't gotten back to me yet.
Then two days ago I heard. I jumped up and down and cried and was just filled with all the emotions.
So at this point, 1665 words later. I'm betting you can guess what my “big announcement” is… but incase you just scrolled to the bottom of all that crap to see what I've been trying to tell you….
I am officially moving to New York!!!!!!!
{via}
{{When Swifty's song welcome to New York came out my friends and i were like IT HAS TO BE A SIGN… but I still had to wait a few weeks (pure torture) to officially hear}}
My job is transferring me so thankfully I won't be funemployed. I'll be closer to my family, my friends, and SUPER close to my boyfriend. I'm taking ze blog with me, name and all, so the Pike Place Kitchen is coming along for the ride (flight?) to the big apple.
My move won't be happening until February so I'm going to put together a Seattle bucket list & also I'm going to be trying to feature all my favorite spots in Seattle on the blog before I leave.
I'm clearly very excited and my family and friends back home are very excited too, but I'll definitely miss all the friends and family I've acquired over here on the West Coast.
I don't think it'll ever be goodbye to Seattle, just see ya later.
