As children we are taught to be anything, to do anything. “You can achieve it all,” my mother used to tell me, but society tells a different narrative. Plastered on the front cover of each and every magazine are near-perfect specimens of the human race. “5 Tips for better abs,” “This Seasons Best and Worst Dressed,” “Top 25 Most Beautiful Women!” We, specifically women, are constantly inundated with reminders that we are not enough. Under the subterfuge of the “American Dream” and “reaching our potential” we are quietly reminded that we must always look and behave a certain way. That in order to be accepted as women, we must check this box, fit this image, shop at this store. While this poses a problem to every woman, we are also unconsciously forcing young girls to grow up with this type of harmful cultural programming.
Moving is weird. And hard. That’s the thing that nobody tells you: after the dust has settled and your Netflix has been setup; life in a new place is strange. There will be periods of great joy and overwhelming uncertainty. Even knowing you made the right decision, the best decision, you will still ache for what is comfortable. The past. That is always safe because we have been there, we know how it plays out. It is the future we have to guess at. Will I find a great job, will I make new friends, where is the closest Starbucks? These are all questions I found myself asking the first few weeks in our new apartment. Five months in and I am happy to report that there are seven within a 5 mile radius.