Less Masshole Energy

In September of 2021, I moved to New England. Tucked away, just outside of “Boston-proper", is me.

I never planned to move here. In fact, I made a mental note not to live here. Each visit was riddled with flight delays, bad weather, worse driving - you name it. School forced my hand, and based on this blog from October, I was not happy about it.

I’ll be honest. My first few months were rough. I drove into a parked car on my first day (damn these narrow, one way streets). I got honked at - constantly. I got lost. I had regular anxiety attacks in public. I wondered if I would ever make friends. I missed everything about the life I left behind in DC. I could blame it on my busy school and work schedule, but I didn’t try to acclimate.

I felt like the new kid in school, not knowing where to sit at lunch. It feels like so much relies on something so small, but you can’t put a price on comfort. For the first six months, I wasn’t comfortable. I was holding my breath, hoping that my dad would come pick me up and it would all be okay.

Of course that plan failed, but I made small strides. Classes went well. I made new friends. I rekindled old friendships. People came to visit and I played tourist. I threw a “kickback” or two. I found places that were mine - a trail, a pond, and a beach. I actually think the proximity to water has the most to do with it. Except, I also have a home team to root for (shout out to my New England Revs). I think I even… like it here now.

I can see a future here, one where I might even get season tickets for the Revs..

I don’t know what’s become of me. Don’t get me wrong, there are still things I hate: traffic, transit, Logan airport, etc. Each day gets a little easier, and who knows where I’ll be a year from now? In the mean time, I’ll enjoy my water and my soccer and my cute little house on a busy, one-way street.