Driving Me Insane

Two weeks after returning from a semi-relaxing trip to the east coast and I still can't shake this nagging feeling that I do not belong at home in San Francisco right now.

I. Need. To. Move.

It pains me to be here in the wonderful SF all the while knowing that I need more time away.

Blame it on college life. Blame it on newfound independence. Blame it on my parents. Reality is, I don't have the means to live on my own. Truth is, I need to start thinking about what I want to do with myself and I'm beginning to put the pieces together.

Right here. In SF.

But it pains me continually each time I am reminded of New York City. Or even Boston and DC. And it doesn't take much to remind me of the east coast. I have friends in the east coast. I have postcards from the east coast. Several movies I own are set in the east coast. I have travel guides for New York City. I have Sex and the City! (The movie and the book about the movie).

To quote Carrie Bradshaw (from the movie), "I'm an emotional cutter."

I'm straddling two worlds - the one at home in good old SF and the potential home in fantasized NYC. But I make it harder on myself by grabbing for things that only remind me of where I wish I could be. Am I capable of cutting myself off the NYC dream train? (That's a tough question).

I don't have the answers.

I only know one thing.

When I want something really badly, I won't let up.

But does that mean I won't survive spending the next couple years in SF? Of course not!

Just this past Friday I reacquainted myself with an old high school friend - Genn - and she introduced me to the Mission in a way that I have never experienced before. I don't know how I spent 22 years in SF and never really spent any time in the Mission. We walked for miles and chatted for hours. I really needed that outing.

And, could it be? Could my love for SF be renewed in one afternoon?

Maybe.

How I handle the next couple or so years here will be interesting. I only hope that I reconcile myself to a life in SF, because it is terribly painful to straddle two cities and two selves.

I am NOT a Ping Pong BALL.

Meanwhile... I keep dreaming up dreams about life in New York City as a resident with my new-old good friend Genn. And small apartments that we'll decorate into gorgeous live-work spaces creating magical works of art through sun-lit rooms. Sounds like perfection to me.

Pleeease, allow me to dream.

(And I wouldn't be true to myself if I didn't admit that it hurts me so much to be home that sometimes I just want to crawl into a hole and cry. It hurts a lot more now that my closest friends aren't near me, either because of a full schedule, or, quite literally, they're far, far away.)

(And I'd definitely be lying to myself if I didn't admit that a depression might come on if I don't snap out of it fast! I NEED to find reasons to stay in SF; I NEED to convince myself that my life belongs here, for now; I NEED to survive through this. Somehow.)