Finding myself in Chicago
I am writing this sitting in my room in a hotel in Chicago. Why am I here? Kind of a strange place to find myself, especially in my situation.
It was just what the doctor ordered. Two nights before I came here I was laying in the middle of my apartment despondant and not sure I could go on.
I am in a transitional stage right now. The library job finally got too much for me. They were never going to give me a chance to progress "because of who I am." And I believed them for nine long years. Finally, I had to come here... to a city I've never been to before, to find out that "who I am" is a really incredible thing.
At one point I was graduating from the University of Colorado on the Dean's List. Soon after that I got my Master's degree. I was on top of the world, and on top of my game. I was in an art show... I read poetry... I taught classes... and then the library started in on me... and over time they wore me down to where I didn't believe in myself and didn't think that I was worth a promotion... and, of course, I started acting like the others that work there... complacent and lazy, because that is the culture there.
Anyhow -- I got knocked down for the last time and had to leave.
Now, I need to find myself again and find a way to pick myself back up and get that old confidence back again.
So, I find myself walking down N. Clark Street, going into interesting shops, the Chicago Institute of Art, Millenium Park, eating Chicago Pizza and Red-Hot Hot-dogs... and it is working.
I am almost ready to head back and start fighting again. I'm able to pick my head up again, and I can do whatever I get it in my head to do. And I am going to rock it now that I am outta that straight jacket.