Having arrived in San Francisco yesterday, I felt a strange sense of pride well up inside me. I sat at a park near the water looking out at the Golden Gate Bridge and had this “I made it. I’m here.” sensation. I walked with a little more bounce in my step, and having been here before, the sense of familiarity made me feel more confident – like an actual resident of the city. I’m not a resident yet. I still have to find a place to live. But as I walked around, and saw all of the different restaurants, shops, and bodegas, I began to think that almost any of these neighborhoods would work. There are bars, coffee shops, cafes, and corner markets everywhere – any one of them could soon become my favorite. Seeing people jog in the park along the waterfront, I thought, I could be jogging in this park on nice days (yesterday was a lovely day). For most of the afternoon, I felt small pops of euphoria over what might be my new normal. At times, it was almost overwhelming – as though I had too many choices (where to go, where to live, who to meet).
When flooded with newness (and stimulation) like this, I struggle to stay focused. And for the next week or so – until I get a place and get in the groove of writing and applying for jobs and eventually working, I’ll need to stay focused. After arriving, I shared a post on Facebook similar to what I had written here in my post “Victory Lap.” The FB post got lots of likes and comments. One of my elementary school teachers praised me for seizing an opportunity most of us only dream of taking. A lot of the reactions were along the lines of “wow, what an amazing experience.” The tiny dopamine hits kept me coming back to FB to check who liked it and who said what – which is exactly how FB is designed to work. I was embarrassed at how well it was working on me. Concurrently, one of the dating apps I’m on was getting new likes almost every few minutes – probably over a hundred in the course of the day. I had taken a book with me on my walk to the park, but didn’t do any reading. When I wasn’t taking in the scenery, my neck was craned downward and my eyes were affixed to my phone as I fed off the dopamine drip of social media and Bumble (the dating app).
Even this morning, as I’m trying to write this brief update, I’m still checking my phone and my mind is racing over a dozen different options of things to do and the logistics over what to do next. It looks like the rain is going to hold off for another day, and I should get in one of those runs I was thinking about (I really need to get back into shape). I’m hesitant to go for a run only because of the laundry situation – which I’ll have to do later this week or early next. I’m thinking I might need to get a better umbrella if I’m going to be walking around in the rain checking out apartments and neighborhoods. I’m thinking I should stop at a store and get a few things to eat (bread, PB and J, oatmeal, fruit) so that I’m not eating out at restaurants three meals a day. I’m wondering how long it will take me to find a place to live and if I should ask about extending my stay. I’m also a little worried about finding the “wrong” place to live. Sure, everything seems cool and like a viable, if not good, option now, but what if I hate it in two months?
And of course, I also want to explore and maybe meet some people. But even there (the meeting people), I’m not sure where to begin. There are too many options and I feel as though I don’t know how to do this. But there’s something else at play and I’m not sure exactly how to describe it or understand it. I’d like to meet someone. I’d like to have that wow moment that I’ve felt before. I know it can’t be forced. I know it has to be organic – either it happens or it doesn’t. I know, that in some respects, the only way to have it happen is to try and try and try. I also know that given the amount of things that are new to me, it would be difficult to focus on this aspect of my life. New beginnings can be overwhelming.
I’ve been down this road before (the first year or two after getting divorced) and I’ve been hesitant to go down it again. For the past four or five years, I’ve taken an “I’ll look, but won’t act approach.” For the first two or three of those years I said I wasn’t ready (broken engagement) and not being ready would only hurt other people. Then I told myself that I was ready but there wasn’t anyone to date in central Pennsylvania. Part of me wonders if those were just excuses – the first one designed to make me feel altruistic and self-aware, and the second, just a plain old excuse (though there really wasn’t anyone to date in State College). Now, faced with an entirely different reality, one in which there are plenty of people to date, I still have some hesitations. Am I ready?
Asking that question of myself (am I ready?) scares me more than I expected it to. And maybe scare isn’t the right word, but it brings up a lot of conflicting emotions: excitement, nervousness, resignation, trepidation. Trying to get clear on what it is about it that scares me isn’t easy. I don’t think it’s because I’m afraid of being hurt… and while I genuinely don’t want to hurt other people, I don’t think that’s it either. I think the biggest fear I have is that in being ready and taking action on testing if I’m ready means both the potential for failure and that I’d be putting the final nail in the coffin of that relationship I had four or five years ago (the one in which I got engaged and believed I had found my person). It means I’ll have to let go of the grief I’ve been carrying and take actionable steps towards moving on. Part of me is afraid of realizing I haven’t moved on as far as I think I have and part of me is afraid that I have. I’m sure part of why I didn’t want to date was because I didn’t think I’d find someone who was as good of a fit… and part of why I didn’t want to date was that I was afraid I might find someone who was a better fit (and if I could find that, so could she).
There’s a whole lot going on there – and I’m not sure I fully understand it. At the time, and over the years, trying to leave myself open to and loving towards this person without hope of it being reciprocated seemed like a wise and compassionate approach – a high-minded and high road approach towards acceptance. Trying to be unconditional felt like it would be an achievement. Not only that, but being unconditional also felt like a validation… that when I said I’d choose her over and over again for a lifetime, I meant it. For a lot of practical reasons, there’s little value in that type of validation and there’s a serious downside to that type of truth (if it is a truth). While that sense of validation made holding space for this person effortless, I’m realizing that the real effort will be in creating new spaces.
I think when I saw her dating profile however many months ago that I saw it, I had a slight tug of hope in my heart. Because my route to acceptance was one in which I didn’t force myself to “unlove” this person, I always kept myself open to the possibility of some future connection. I think in that moment, while I had plenty of dating options, I said to myself (unknowingly) I’d still choose her over most. And for the life of me, I can’t explain it and I don’t know what to do with it other than let it sit there and do nothing. That was, and has been, the problem in not being the one to have ended things. I wasn’t the one making a different choice. That also seems to be the wedge beneath my tires that’s preventing me from getting going on this road again: forcing myself to make a different choice. I know that when I do, and when it surprises and wows me like I suspect it will, all of this will seem like silly hand-wringing (if it seems like anything at all).