People and Places in passing

I sit on my bench a lot these days – the bench made from wood that was once a counter in my van. My bench is situated just below a window tucked away in the corner of my apartment. I often find myself there before and after work, sitting quietly or listening to a record. It seems strange to have gone from a new bench in a new city every day, week, or month to being seated on the same squeaky bench in the same spot every day.

When I lost my job, I had no clue how the rest of the year would go. Would I keep moving around and get seasonal work, find another online job, or move to one place and stop living in a van entirely? I decided to move near my friend in Detroit because an apartment had opened up a level below his. I knew living in a building would be very different from living in a vehicle, but I couldn’t have expected how much of a change it would really bring.

I love running water; I don’t love commuting in the snow; I think all my neighbors are cool; and really, my part of town has got it going on. I thought I would feel more stable—somehow planted and ready to sprout—to take on the things I had put off while living in the van. I forgot the time it takes to keep a place larger than 4’X6’ clean, how many dishes you have when you also have a stove and like to cook, and you’re a fashionista, so you work on outfits and don’t aaaaalways put all your clothes back right away. Basically, my apartment is a mess, and maybe my life is too – but change isn’t neat and clean.

Cycles, travel, and movement have been where I find myself most at home. Moving with the seasons, catching the winter sunsets in Florida, bright, hot Michigan afternoons and evenings, and burning brush with my dad were what I considered normal parts of the year. I was led by different winds and confined by different constraints, but there were most assuredly constraints, mostly power, water, and a comfortable bathroom at all times. My life looked, smelled, and even sounded different.

The questions I get now sound like “how do you feel now that you’re trapped in one spot?” “Do you miss Van life?” and “How are you liking Detroit?”

To answer them in order – being trapped

First, I wouldn’t call it entrapment, but I do feel caged in some ways. My schedule is more strict and out of my control. This doesn’t come from living in an apartment so much as it comes from working in person. All my time is planned for at least those 50ish hours a week, including travel. Its the pits if I’m being honest. The last time I was driving into work, I lived 10 minutes from my job, and there was never traffic because I worked night shift. It’s a lot of daylight inside – so maybe I do feel a bit caged, but it’s not all I feel.

Do I miss it – duh.

I’m a creature at the heart of my being – living outdoors and traveling with the seasons is a way of life that sat very well with me. I will say – the way I was living was still too fast and way too much. I used to spend way more time working in a day, still miss out on experiences for work. I was playing a losing game with work-life balance. Despite the chaos, I was still outside, and while my work life was overwhelming, I could always change the location of the overwhelm. My work paid for my

How do I like Detroit??

It’s awesome! I really, really love this city. She’s strong, beautiful, and a great place to live. The art museums, countless cafes, music venues out the wazoo, and an international waterway to look at anytime of the day. The people say hi and help when you need it. They talk to you on a bench, and if you need advice, they’re usually honest if not a bit blunt, but hey, it’s Michigan.

Maybe being caged is what it takes to force me to fight for the life I love, and I need to be planted to build the way I want to. In coming to Detroit, I knew I wanted the city to make me stronger, more resilient, and more comfortable with my own opinion and sharing it. While I’m feeling some emotions that scare me, I’m realizing I always said being scared is how I grow. I live in a constant state of fear because I’m living big. I’m seeking to live for myself and make a life I love, and that’s scary because I won’t always exist as the same person.

I’m thankful for all the parts of myself that have prepped me and brought me to this point. In the end, I don’t think it’s good or bad, it’s sick to explore this city and myself, and I’ll be excited about doing it for as long as I’m here. I think being planted doesn’t mean standing still, or being stuck; it’s just giving space for roots to go deep and limbs to grow tall.