About two weeks ago, my life turned into an exciting but constantly busy whirlwind as I prepped for my move to Bozeman. I fought hard to balance my time between packing up my apartment, finishing work with Wells Fargo, and spending time with all the people who made my time in Iowa so great.
As I cleared out my apartment, I found myself clinging to my time there, trying to savor every last moment. I don’t consider myself a materialistic person, but it was still difficult to leave all my carefully selected furniture and decor behind. Even stranger was seeing it strewn around my childhood bedroom. My last few days in Des Moines were spent in my parents’ house, living among my miscellaneous boxes and haphazard piles I eventually plucked from as I packed everything up again.
My packing list was minimal. Aside from clothing, I only brought my camping gear, my bike, and the packable portions of any hobbies I want to keep working on. Strewn about my car are paints and paintbrushes, rackets, and yard games. A cooler sits in the back that’s currently filled with hiking boots and outdoor blankets, and beside it are emergency kits and cooking materials.
I’m no stranger to selling everything and getting out of dodge. Most of my big moves have fit into a Ford Focus. That being said, there was a similarly nervous feeling in my gut that I’ve felt many times before.
But it felt different, in a good way. A big change I felt ready for.
Gearing Up to Leave
I’m not known for my love of change. Some, including my parents and my therapist, might even say I’m averse to it. For someone with crippling wanderlust, I have a hard time venturing off into the unknown. Especially far away, and especially alone.
When I leave a place I love, it usually means leaving my friends, family, and community I’ve built there. That’s hard, and that’ll never change. It’s the way it’s supposed to be. But, life is meant to move forward, and I’m not moving somewhere just because I’m bored or desperate . I’m not moving because I hate where I am or the people I’m surrounded by. I’m moving because I want to be happier.
There were no other considerations to take into account during this move. I didn’t worry about the money I’d make or how I’d fit into another lease. I only cared about how I could be the happiest in my life. I think that’s the difference with this change. It’s why I feel at-ease.
Even though I knew the amazing possibilities in store for me, I intended leaving to be difficult. I anticipated the hours around my departure would be hard. I anticipated fighting a small desire to stay – or, at least, a lack of excitement toward driving nine hours alone to Denver.
The morning of my departure, I woke up a few hours earlier than I needed to. My car was packed and ready to go, so I soaked in my last few hours in the place I’ve called home for so long. It was vital to me that those last few hours were spent unencumbered by countless thoughts of my packing list. But, call it fate or call it hesitation to stick around when the rest of my family tested positive for COVID, I was ready to leave early that morning. It was a foreign feeling to not feel remiss about leaving a place so dear, but I ran with it.
I hopped in my car and, after refusing a hug from my parents in exchange for a socially distanced gaze into each other’s eyes, I hit the road.
On My Way
Even though the drive through western Iowa and all of Nebraska (and, let’s be honest, Eastern Colorado) isn’t pretty, it went by fast. A friend and I made a playlist the previous night to keep my ears entertained, and she also gave me podcast suggestions to keep my brain occupied, too.
There was a new energy that developed each mile I drove on. The music seemed more energetic, the farmland looked more exciting, and I felt higher, lighter.
The mental game of the drive changed. I wasn’t just visiting Estes Park again for the weekend, this was a move. The drive wasn’t just an obstacle between me and a vacation, but it turned into a long and fulfilling welcome to my new life.
Denver was a great introduction to my new life. My car sat packed in a parking garage as my college roommate and I played pickleball at the base of the Boulder Flatirons, had beers with old friends, and reminisced about the memories we’ve already made as well as the memories we planned to make further north.
Denver very much felt like a finishing paragraph to this part of my life. But let’s be honest, after Denver is where the trip really gets interesting. Once I ventured north, my trip became a breathtaking opening page. One where each sentence sent my heart racing, blood pumping, and soul soaring. It includes some of the hardest but most rewarding experiences of my life so far, and I can’t wait to share it with you.
But, that’s for another time (AKA, I haven’t written it yet… but come on, I’ve been in the Grand Teton backcountry. Give me a break). As of now, we’re just working on getting there. But hold tight. It’s coming.
I’m on my way to Otherwhere, step by step.
