Fruitport, Which is Right next to Ferrysberg

A few weeks ago I went on an impromptu trip to Chicago. Staying with my friend Kate on the Northside in Portage Park, I took the Milwaukee bus downtown. Passing through Wicker Park I started nostalgically thinking about my 14 years living in Chicago. During that time I had 100 lifetimes being a student, a receptionist, a student worker, which led me to the question, “What is my newest life in Chicago going to look like? Is it possible to go home again?”

The person who boarded American Airlines to SNA on November 15, 2008 is not returning to Chicago. The entitled, superior, perfect Alyssa no longer exists. Moving to California where I knew no one was the first step in a self-discovery. Leaving my job in March, about the same time I began this blog, a drive into the pool of the unknown. In the early days I was lost as to what to do next and how to do it? Nothing was the same.

In the past five months, I have traveled, made friends, tried new things, taken courses and for the first time in a long time everything about my life works. Concerned to interrupt anything with a gnawing fear that moving to Chicago wasn’t a good idea I have been putting off moving. I miss my people terribly but am more committed to my life working and the difference I can make for others when it does.

I even considered, at the suggestion of my Illinois dwelling boyfriend, staying in California. Smart enough to know that it might just be something I am doing because I feel I should and concerned about my happiness. In the end I chose to move, as the distance is too much—I hate missing weddings and funerals and birthday celebrations.

After my visit, I was no more certain—and perhaps less—that moving back to Chicago was the best idea. The cost of living is high especially given that I do not have a job. They have a water bottle tax! I want to focus on writing a book and the city has many distractions. Even my visit to my former neighborhood pub proved bankrupt.

My future in Chicago is predictable…I will be so worried about survival that my anxiety will drive me to some job at which I am underemployed hence my life will stop working and I will cease writing.

Therefore, I am moving home. Muskegon County. The Skee. I will be living in my parents basement bedroom suit in Fruitport Michigan—that is right next to Ferrysburg, no joke. I a 36 years old and I think this is the most adult thing I can do. I will be able to save money and focus on the things I would do if not anxious about, and scared of, being homeless and hungry.

Those of you concerned about fodder for my blog, you have never been to The Skee. When I was 32 years old, a grocery store clerk once questioned if she could sell me Rolling Rock because my license was from Illinois and she wasn’t sure if they “accepted” out of state ID. My mom frequently drops her wine in the check out lane at Meijers. Don’t worry I never blog about people I like without their permission. Fruitport, which is right next to Ferrysburg.

Those of you concerned about my “pool time” one of my BFFs from high school has a pool and lives on a lake (yes, you can see across it). She has offered to be my sidekick and wear a cape. Be the Glinda  to my Elphaba….ok, maybe more like the Wonder Twins. 

Those of you concerned about the title of this blog….it is also a play on OCD and ADD which I will have regardless of what county I reside.

Moving back to a town I couldn’t wait to get away from gives me great peace of mind. What would have been an indication of failure as an adult is now a blessing.

Would you ever move home? What do you think about a roommate, your dad, who cooks for you?

Oh and Mom, we need to work out the caf/decaf issue on the Painted Black.