It’s no secret that I was in bad shape – physically, mentally and emotionally as I transitioned from Finance to Business Development. I’ve been through a few rough patches in my relatively short life. We all have, but this one was by far the worst, for more reasons than I can count. That’s not what today is about. Cliche as it sounds, today is about re-framing in order to “celebrate the pivot,” to borrow Brene Brown's terminology. Over the last six months, I completely transformed myself on the inside. Slowly but surely, I'm making my way through the external, too. When this project is done, the only things that will remain unchanged are my values, life goals, and the stuffed animal on my bed named Bowow.
In today’s ego-driven world, it’s strongly suggested that I describe this period of internal transformation as worthwhile, fun and easy. F that. I’ve never been good at maintaining the status quo. If I knew how to let good enough be good enough, I wouldn’t have gotten myself into half the mess that I did. I wouldn’t change that for the world. Today isn't the day that I go into detail about this. When I do, I refuse to not sugar-coat the challenges, because that takes away from the accomplishment. Besides, sugar-coating defeats the purpose of an online diary in the first place.
Sometime between early November and January 11th (the day I declared inner peace), my intuition told me that I outgrew my apartment in Belltown. I knew that I’d move before my lease expired. I had absolutely no idea where. I was preoccupied with never-ending battles between my mind and body of how and where to exist on a second-by-second basis. And by where to exist, I mean what to work on.
Battles aside, no way in hell would I allow a repeat of last year, when I kept myself so busy causing trouble in finance that I didn’t give myself a chance to consider moving until three days before my lease expired. This time, I did something else that Amazonians do: I imposed a deadline. In the weeks and months leading up to the self-imposed deadline of February 14th, I instinctively knew that I want to move to a townhouse. I had no idea which city, state or country, for that matter, but I wanted a home. My own bed stopped feeling like home the day that I left Finance.
There's one more thing that didn't change: the concept of my forever Unicorn. I mean, how else could I motivate myself to get through such a living hell of recovery, other than convincing myself that he's around the very next corner? With each and every hurdle, I convinced myself that my forever Unicorn (let’s call him Harold) stood on the other side. For months, I identified and wrestled sources of anxiety into the ground faster than conventional science says is humanely possible. Depending on how well you know me, you can imagine that the battle against my former self was the equivalent of fighting an army of angry boa-constrictors. I'd pick myself up and dust away the bruises, thinking I had won the battle. Without fail, I paused for Harold to re-emerge out of thin air for us to live happily ever after. Regardless of (seemingly?) life-changing breakthrough, Harold was nowhere to be found. The immediate onset of another round of disappointment, anger and sadness lead me head first into the next monstrosity of a challenge. Of course, I sprinted through, fully convinced that THIS time, Harold would be there. As my lease expiry drew closer and Harold remained nothing more than another man in my head, I issued an ultimatum: If Harold, or any Unicorn, hadn’t returned or surfaced by February 14th, I’d move to Boston to be closer to my people. Harold has no idea about any of this. He doesn’t respond well to ultimatums, for starters.
As February 14th approached, I tried to rationalize. I considered moving to a townhouse in Seattle. I never thought that I’d actually go through with the move. Not like this, at least. When February 14th arrived, I wrote the official post at 2:20pm, doing my best to make light of the fact that the decision wouldn’t be final until midnight. I continued hoping that I had a chance until I went to bed at 9pm that night. It’s okay, I'm laughing with you that I'm willing to put this on the internet.
On February 15th, I was reluctant to share the news with friends and family. I resented that I didn’t have a reason to stay in Seattle. I was hesitant to pick up my life and move across the country for what felt like such a silly reason, at the time. Harold is a semi-fictional character, at this point. As the clocked ticked closer to my lease expiry date, I forced myself to share the news of the impending cross-country move. I did my best to share in my friends’ excitement that I’d finally join them – and their boyfriends -- in Boston. Since I can't embarrass myself any more than I already have, I can share that I mostly forgot I had such incredible friends until I heard how excited they were for me to finally join the party on the East Coast. I couldn’t believe my own words when I formally requested the move at work. To this day, I take comfort knowing that I don't do things unless I'm fully committed. In other words, I’m pretty terrible at doing things I don’t want to do. I wondered if my manager sensed my lack of excitement when he delivered the good news, in the form of yes. I didn’t say anything to my few remaining friends in Seattle until it came up in conversation or became unavoidable, because I didn’t know how to say it. Honestly, I kept hoping I’d have a reason to change my mind. To be fair, I did have moments of excitement. I always had a vision of amazing life in Boston. I just wasn't excited about it until today. Anyway, I used the moments of excitement to find energy to schedule movers, look at places to live, and share the news.
Two days ago, a dream came to life: I put on my red bow that I purchased in South Korea and independently presented (in-person!) to external customers for the first time. I'm pleasantly surprised that this dream exists. I got to spend the day in a sweaty boardroom of passionate executives, and an incredible view of Puget Sound. Between presentations, doodling architecture diagrams far outside of my job description, and dinner at El Gaucho, I somehow even made it the gym while the rest of the group went drinking at Old Stove. Half the room flew in from across the country for the occasion. I walked 12 minutes in heels.
Throughout the day, nearly each person asked me why I'm moving. I gave the obvious answer: I work East Coast hours, want to be closer to friends, and it’s time for a new adventure. I found enough excuses to talk about Lambda that I’m certain each executive sensed my lack of passion about moving. Nonetheless, they were good sports, and told me that they were excited for me. I’m proud of myself for keeping my mouth shut about anything remotely related to Unicorns. I bet my sister is too.
Yesterday, in my first draft, I wrote, “The only thing sounds more daunting than moving is figuring out how to re-frame this situation. However, I hate the reality that a character who doesn't know me anymore has such unreciprocated influence over me. Especially after this past year and a half of personal growth. My official move date is March 21st.” Today, I re-write this, as I'm on my way Boston to look at townhomes to purchase. Nobody can change my mind, at least about the move. Not even a real-life version of Harold, or any other Unicorn.
On more than one occasion, friends question, “Michelle, if you still feel [felt] this way, have you considered talking to this person?” Yes, I have. Over the last year and a half, I invented ways to demonstrate growth at major milestones. Even if my unresolved frustrations at the person's stubbornness and lack of accountability were poorly disguised. Harold made it clear that he wasn't interested. As much as I wished the situation were different, I’m not convincing anyone to be with me. Especially not anyone as stubborn as that dude. I did everything that I possibly can, including (and not limited to) writing a 4-page document detailing my emotional growth, offering to trade a wireless Cow Mouse for the rights to an app that he doesn't have reasonable claim to (I made a promise to Gammie), and pointing out flaws in our former life timeline. Boa constrictor, am I right?
He doesn’t know that I’m moving, but it doesn’t change anything. Before you say anything negative, just know that I'll defend his character to a fault. I don't know who he is today, but he always had good intentions and did his best. There was a version of me that was too caught up in my own mess to say it before. The only thing left for me to do is to remove myself from the situation, re-frame the narrative [almost done], and get to Boston ASAP. The next chapter of my incredible fortunate life awaits, as it has been since July. As for Harold - I hope he knows that I wish all the best to him and his current + future family. It’s easy to throw those words around, but I swear on my LEGO Lambda that I mean it.
For my own sanity, let me clarify that over the last year and a half, I’ve gone weeks or months without thinking about Harold at all. I’ve dated, been in 2.5 relationships, and fallen in and out of love several times. Most importantly, I found fulfillment as a single person. Ultimately, my heart and mind returned to Harold because of the lessons he taught me, in conjunction with the values and life goals that we shared as much as any two people can. The last two years in Seattle were about not only accepting instances that I’m wrong, but proactively seeking out and embracing weakness as an opportunity for growth. It just so happens that Harold was brave enough (or dumb enough) to call me out. It may not have seemed like it at the time, but I respected him enough to listen. Like Lambda, Harold symbolizes my own inner battles more than anything else. I never share real names to begin with, but I began referring to him in my own head as Harold months ago when I recognized this.
Before I believed in souls at all, I believed at my core l that Harold was my “Unicorn who keeps his horn. However, my soul knows that I’m not always right. When we broke up, I asked for closure, otherwise known as a chance to start over. In that conversation, Harold listed 5-10 reasons that he didn't see a future for us. That's kind of how this whole thing started. Exactly one year after we broke up, I completed his list, and moved on to bigger items. Not because of Rule #2, but because he was objectively correct. It turns out that I missed one final not-so-inherent opportunity on his list: Acceptance of the fact that Harold and I aren't meant for each other. Today, as I re-write this narrative one final time, let my acceptance of this fact serve as the final example of how the non-fictituous Harold inspires me to grow. With that said, I’m excited to go home to Boston, the place that will not only allow, but encourage me continue learning and developing at my pace.
Who knows, maybe I’ll even meet the Unicorn who believes that humans can evolve, because that’s a dealbreaker. So, yeah, for this next sprint, we're moving to Boston.
Love always,
Michelle
P.S. This just so happens to be the ending of And, it's a Love Story, in so many words. I'm not unique, I'm just willing to put it on the table.
P.S.S. Don't tell Harold, but he was right about how the dishwasher should be organized, too. Some random guy on Hinge in Boston agrees, too.
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