Three years ago, I was mentally preparing myself for the fact that in less than 3 months, I’d pack my things and move from LA to Chicago. I woke up crying for weeks and fell into a serious state of depression. A stopped calling my friends, didn’t want to do anything, terrified I was making the biggest mistake of my life kind of depression. I was a disaster.

I spent the past few days in LA and Santa Barbara, and as soon as I landed in Chicago yesterday afternoon, a sense of peace came over me. This wasn’t the first time I’ve felt it, but there was something about it this time that really hit me. I was home. I hopped in a cab and headed straight to Gina’s to pick up the pup. We ran a few quick errands together, and there was just something about walking through this beautiful city with one of my closest friends. Going up to her place to see a dog so excited to see me that he peed all over the (wood) floor. Oh, Buddy. I walked to the grocery store, cleaned, and am getting back to my routine.

I know I made the right choice when I moved to Chicago, but it’s a little bittersweet that the place I used to call home no longer feels that way to me. Yes, I know my way around the city, but it’s different now. New places have popped up and my mom moved to a new house. Everything has changed.

But Chicago–it feels like home. And that feels pretty wonderful.

Have you made a big move? How long did it take until your new city felt like home?

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