Comfort Zone

Birds fly in a flock

There always seems to be one stray

The one who seems behind

The one who seems to put in less effort

The judgment put on one, is put on the rest

Does it change the frame of mind

How do you see the bird?

The bird's true character is revealed

Straggling behind or struggling to keep up

Yet staying with its flock of support

There is a time in all of our lives when we turn a corner, and we don’t expect to see what we see. We don’t expect to feel what we feel. It’s a shock to the system at times, and other times it’s a feeling of relief. Whatever the case, it’s a turning point and somewhat of an absolution.

It happened when I was done packing up my apartment in Pittsburgh and was about to leave for the long drive to Cape Coral. There was an opportunity waiting for me there – something that would take my career to another level and even, possibly, give me a chance for romance. Everything happened so fast, from the call I got from a friend in Florida telling me about an opening with her company to swiping right on Cal and scheduling a date for my first real night in the Sunshine State.

My life felt like a whirlwind, making quick decisions without the chance to truly understand what I agreed to do. My father would say that I don’t give myself enough credit, and my brother and sister would tag team to try and help me realize my worth. It’s hard to trust the things you hear from your family — the bias is evident. No matter how many times they would lift me up, I always settled in the middle. I feared the feeling of being too high on positivity and luck. I enjoyed the middle ground, where it was safe and rational. What I came to learn is that the middle ground can be lonely and leave you feeling complaisant.

Needless to say, I’m not a big risk-taker. When my friend Lyla called me up and told me her company was looking for a new account executive, I wasn’t too sure why she shared this information with me. I hadn’t mentioned that I was looking for work, and I definitely wasn’t considering relocating. The job sounded interesting, but I didn’t feel like I was in a position to just pick up and leave. Then, Lyla told me her neighbor just moved out and went on and on about how much fun it would be to live next door to each other. She was selling the move pretty well, but I still wasn’t convinced.

She didn’t stop there. She called my father. She called my siblings. That was a little frustrating. I didn’t ask her to corral an army to fight the good fight for me. It was almost like an intervention. I spent six hours on the phone the day they all decided to call and put in their two cents about me needing to do something with my life. By the time I had gotten off the phone with my brother, I had cried so much that I could barely see. They all had so many great things to say about me, and all I could do was come up with excuses.

It was time to stop making excuses. I called Lyla and told her I was coming to Florida. Her excitement lasted about five minutes, and then she put her next plan into motion — she got me to join a dating app. I was already budgeting the move, so I said to myself — what the hell — if I was going to move to Florida for business, I might as well as move for pleasure too. After about a month, I had rented the apartment in Florida and started packing up the home I had for the last five years. It was especially entertaining when my brother flew in from Boston, and my sister flew in from San Diego, surprising me with a week of great company for packing. It brought back so many good memories from our time together as kids. It felt so good to have them with me, and then they went back to their homes. We had packed up my bedroom. I had four other rooms to go.

While packing my living room, my phone started vibrating over and over again. When I checked it, I had a ton of messages from this guy named Cal, who found me on that dating app Lyla set up for me. He also recently moved to Cape Coral and saw my profile said I would be living there soon. My first impression of Cal was silly, intelligent, and thoughtful. Our chemistry was probably obvious to others, but I wasn’t so sure. I was already moving. What if I moved to Florida and this guy ended up being a serial killer? When I started to text him back less, he called me. I ignored the first couple of calls. I hope one day he’ll tell me he thought to himself, “third times a charm,” because that’s what I thought. If he calls a third time, I’ll answer.

Another month goes by, my apartment is packed, and I’m showing Cal the empty apartment over a video call. It’s Friday, and I’m about to walk out the door of my apartment for the last time. He’s cracking jokes on minor blemishes and pointing out fake stains on the carpets. We end the call confirming our date for Saturday night, joking that we won’t be able not to attempt to sneak a peek of each other somehow before then. Before he hangs up, he tells me he likes me and to have a safe trip.

I’m standing outside by my little blue hatchback, looking at my apartment building. The years there were spent worrying about so many things that didn’t matter. I spent so much time there playing it safe and not really living. I held on to what I knew and made little effort to confront change.

Hearing my family tell me there is more to me than what I see helped me turn that corner. I learned it’s not about being ready; it’s about being able. It’s about biting the bullet. It’s about challenging yourself. It’s about facing your fear. It’s about scaring your soul. It’s about taking the opportunity and the necessary risk to ensure you have a life to look back on that you can say was fulfilled.

I won’t miss that apartment, but I’ll admire it for what it taught me. There’s beauty in living if you trust yourself to do so.