Time Is A Funny Thing
Two years in, and things are pretty uncertain.
There are a lot of songs about crossing thresholds. I've tried to write some of them myself. It's one of those things you have to process; sometimes you don't even realize you've crossed it until much later. Our move to Nashville did not fall into that category; it was abundantly clear that things were very different from the moment we arrived.
Having heard from friends who are also transplants that it takes a good long while to get used to the city, I was ready for an abrupt change, but I was simultaneously walloped in the head by it. I didn't like the location we lived in right off the bat, and my job didn't turn out to be exactly what I expected, and in that already stressful moment that seemed like a huge letdown. I had (and have) a network of friends in town already, but it didn't feel like I was a part of anything they did; it was a tremendously isolating time.
We live in the burgeoning area of the east side of town now, which is far less isolated geographically. A creative hub, full of new shops, restaurants, art pop-ups, and unique and interesting people. And yet I've never felt less creative, ever since I've lived here; the desire is there, but the will power to actually do it is nearly extinguished entirely.
I know I've talked about this before; I've just been depressed, no two ways about it. But all this time, I've been looking forward and saying "it'll get better, I know it." But it only slightly has so far. Time is a funny thing, and my brain still has a lot of work to do.