When I moved to Minneapolis, everyone I met told me that it’ll get easier, that I should just write off my first year, but in year two I’ll find my rhythm and will love the city. I loved the city in year one, so finding love for the city in question.
The initial winter shock was debilitating.
But as I’ve said in previous entries, once you figure out the rules to the game, the winter really isn’t so bad.
They were wrong. It’s only been in my third year that I finally feel like I’m hitting my stride. I’m at two and a half years. The culture shock was fierce. I’d never expected living in another “blue state” to be so different. I knew living in the Bay Area that I lived in a bubble. I just never realized how air tight the bubble was.
Greg said to me the other day that I’d have been “just like them” had I been born here. That thought, honestly, is what kept me going two years ago. I’d flipped my car. I’d lost all of my friends. I was alone here, but I kept thinking that we are - on some level - the same. Culture shock was one thing, but it could only get better – right?
Now that I’m in year three things are better. I’ve learned – mostly – how to dodge the MN vs. CA comparison conversations. The bitterness is gone. I have some amazing people who do truly care about me.
I’ve yet to find my niche, but I’m no longer looking for it either. I’m just me. Imagine the descriptors you use to define your identity with are no longer true. That’s how I felt that first winter.
I was not a student.
I was not a reporter.
I couldn’t even bring myself to write.
I was no longer a promoter.
I was no longer a friend.
I was no longer a brother.
I was no longer a son.
It threw me into an identity crisis, and over the last two years I’ve rededicated myself to finding myself. I’m there, finally. This is me and I’m completely comfortable again with whom I am. This next year is dedicated towards exploring Minnesota with my true self in mind – and I’m looking forward to it.
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