Last month, I referenced my mini mental breakdown on the Brownline. This was probably slightly over-dramatic, but it happens to the best of us. My Brownline Breakdown was the combination of two months of overwhelming emotions all hitting me at once; stress, excitement and sadness prior to moving and the anticipation, limited finances and change in routine once arriving in Chicago. I hope that it's safe to say that many people in my position would have a spontaneous, inconvenient and awkward freak out if found in a similar situation. Conversations with many that have actually experienced this life changing move has confirmed that thought.
Anyway, as I was yelling at the disgusting man that threw his gas station food into my shopping bag from a designer on Michigan Avenue, I felt the crazies coming my way. May I point out that this was the final straw in one of the most frustrating days I had experienced in quite a while. This was the cherry on top of a day spent looking at apartments that don't meet the detailed qualifications that I had emailed the woman assisting me. Tiles falling off of the kitchen ceiling and a huge crack in the window - seriously - in the first building I looked at made me realize that this was going to be a very painful process. After half-screaming, half-crying at the foolish woman that chose to ignore my requests because she apparently knows me better than I do, I opted not to see the next six crackhouses she was planning to take me to.
Why was I on the Brownline instead of the usual Redline, you ask? Let me explain. Most of my friends know that I have a love/hate relationship with technology that mostly consists of hate. I have an appreciation for it and especially those that work in the area. However, I don't like learning to use a new phone, having to download new apps or anything else. I have about five apps on my personal iPhone that weren't already installed. Also, I hate checking the apps that I do have. Sometimes days will go by before I check Facebook or Instagram, or even my voicemail. I've had the same iPhone for over two years simply because I don't want to adjust to a new phone. I am pathetic. So, I was on the Brownline because my network provider (cough, AT&T cough), is trying to kill me. Too dramatic? I don't care. I am new in the city, more so when this occurred, and kept getting lost. It was so frustrating because it would be in areas that I was semifamilar with but Siri, that stupid bitch, would tell me to "head west on Franklin Avenue," and make me doubt myself. After about five "are you sure, Siri?" moments, I found myself in unfamiliar territory. I was exhausted from carrying around the giant shopping bags, wearing cute heels because I thought it was just going to be a quick trip to have lunch with my sister and get my clothes for work, and I'd be back home. According to my Jawbone UP, I had already walked about 8 miles at this point. I ran into a CTA train stop and got on the first train heading somewhat north.
It was on this train that all of my insecurities that I had no idea what the hell I was doing, the fear of starting the new job for which I was carrying around a terribly heavy bag of beautiful clothing, and the overwhelming notion that apartment hunting was going to be a lose-lose situation, all hit me the minute the pork-rinds wrapper touched my black trench coat. I straightened up my posture, cleared the tears that were clouding my eyes and raised my voice at the dipshit that was wiping his hands on the outside of my shopping bag. "What in the fuck do you think you are doing? Get your shit out of my bag and get the hell away from me," I stared him down as I yelled. He literally jumped with surprise and started to stammer. As he slowly began to walk away, I pointed out that he tried to, "fuck with the wrong white bitch today," and he and his partner in crime nodded in agreement.I got two high fives when I got off the train two stops later.
I'm always going to have the crazies come over me at strange and unexpected moments and will probably find unusual outlets for my current stressor(s). What I have learned, is that usually there's a reason for my breakdown and a strange beauty in it. That afternoon I started out as a wandering deer-in-headlights girl that felt lost and alone in the city, to the Chicagoan that can stand up for herself, put on her big girl panties get things done. I felt far more confident, told Siri to shut it, and knew that I could figure things out one way or another. Was cussing out a disgusting man on the train or scream-crying to an apartment broker the most appropriate way to find this out? Meh, probably not. Maybe one day I will better control my frustrations but for now, it is a learning experience for all three of us.
No comments:
Post a Comment