Hope Lost and Regained

There’s this view that if you’re waiting for the train in downtown Chicago, off of State Street, you can catch the 4 o’clock sun hitting the buildings just right.

The light bounces off the windows’ tint, reflecting orange hues from the sun’s beams. The Art Museum is in the very back, looking only as big as the size of a penny at the center of your viewpoint. Autumn has left bare trees in the park, and you marvel at how beautiful a tree limb structure is, even without the greenery to please the eye. The evening traffic building up makes you happy that you’re not driving home that night.

But only if you can take it in and breath can it be the most perfect sight you’ve ever seen. Resting and reflecting on the nostalgic feelings you get from missing home is the key to this very moment.

I was in the middle of working on an assignment where I had to accompany a client home on the train. This first job after college had me crying some days over how stressful it was, on top of not being anywhere I had planned for my career to go. As the days progressed, I became more depressed, continually feeling less sane than the first day it hit me that this job had not been meant for me long term.

That particular day with the setting sun, trees, and rush hour traffic in view, I believe God was trying to show me something.

“Today can be enjoyed even under unpleasant circumstances.”

It had been a 10-hour day. Some days, it was twelve, other days it was five. No matter how long the shifts were, I sometimes wondered if I had made the mistake of moving to a new city to take a job I knew I wasn’t going to hold onto forever.

In those times I felt the most discouraged, I prayed and I complained. I prayed to God, and then sometimes I snapped at Him for making my life feel so meaningless for so long. Having gone to college longer than most, I felt an unsettled way of living. It was filled with no security, a dwindling bank account, and a job that paid well by the hour, but made me depressed every day I went.

But in working the job where I often felt like complaining or crying, I found the orange hues of the sun. The bare trees. The beautiful high-rise buildings. The nostalgic feelings of autumn in my hometown. And maybe most importantly, my sanity kept in tact during a time where I felt the least confident.

What I found was that there was always something to admire in the dark moods, and just perhaps a voice reminding me it was all going to change. Just like the season was turning. Just like the sun setting. And just like going from one place to another on the Blue Line.

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The End of An Era: Saying Goodbye to Windrose

Hi friends,

Announcement (sounds so formal, doesn’t it?):

It's the end of an era.

I’ve decided that, after nearly 8 years of telling stories of navigating life, this season of Windrose is drawing to a close.

Even Here: Words for When You're Wandering

When I was 22 years old, I visited the desert for the first time.

A metaphorical desert, if we’re getting technical.

I was fresh out of college, starry-eyed and eager to begin my post-grad life. I had big ‘ole me-centered dreams: a shiny, brag-worthy PR job in the music industry! An apartment with an exposed brick wall that (somehow) would fit an upright piano! A committed relationship with a kind, goofy man!

I got exactly none of those things.

To summarize an entire year’s worth of emotion: I was devastated.

Witching Hour (or, Fighting Off Demons at 3 am with a Box Cutter)

Between the hours of 3 - 4 am, I find myself awakened by nothing in particular. The room is silent. There is no sound outside. No loud car horns. No dogs barking.

I’m upset.

I wish it was something other than just me. Then I could stop it. Nothing is to blame. It feels like moments have passed since I closed my eyes. The moments of a long dreamless sleep last about 4 hours.

A Song for Growth

A year ago, a friend of mine got a job at a well known tech company. He had been slogging through the interviews, and he finally got an offer. Obviously he deserved it. He was a hard worker, and his attitude for success and life was admirable to say the least. I knew he was beyond qualified.

But at the time, I was on a career path I couldn’t see myself being happy in. I had made the mistake of staying in the industry mainly for the money. Every month in the industry was a reminder of how much I did not want to stay. It created a nasty cycle of overthinking and career angst. Feelings of inadequacy and existentialism rooted themselves deep inside me. I couldn’t focus on anything and was utterly disconnected from the work I was doing.

I admit I wasn’t happy for him.

A Song for the In Between

It may be over.

Despite its nature, the concept is definitive. The body is better at preparation than action, so the concept invokes an uncontrolled reaction. The sweaty palms; the rusted coils in the stomach; the feeling of teetering on the edge—my body thinks I’m dying.

It tries to save me from myself. It transforms into a spring to weather elements. Or a boulder. I am hunched, prepared for the event.

But there’s nothing to save me from. My life isn’t in danger. I’m not being chased by a wolf. I sit on the couch. I sit in my chair, still. I am, in theory, perfectly healthy.

Yet my mind paces.

A Song for the Nocturnal

I woke up again and knew I wasn’t going back to sleep.

The alarm wasn’t even close to waking up. The cracked light through my drapes showed the indigo sky—a shade I’ve come to refer to as “you’re not sleeping tonight” blue. I looked at my phone but already knew what it would read before the screen turned on: 3am.

It was the third night in a row I’ve woken up at this time. In the past, options to tackle this insomnia were aplenty: I could go back to sleep after a drink of water. I could read and drift off. I could even play some video games until sleep lulled me back. But lately, my mind pulls the body along a joyride of thought. It starts and doesn’t stop. It has become loud and uncontrollable, like a child. In dead silence this time brings, my mind wakes before my body can at 3am.

3am. Historically, I’ve gotten along with this time.

One could say I’ve preferred the night in my life.

A Song for Embracing the Present Moment

Despite the sun’s rays and the heightened sense of joy in the air that wafted like perfume, I was feeling gray. Over the year, COVID-19 made me uncertain about my future. In my life, like most people, the pandemic revealed certain aspects of life that weren’t previously apparent. Maybe for some it was relationship issues. Maybe it was cabin fever or job uncertainty.

In my case, my career path was no longer clear. I was increasingly aware of this fact as the days dragged on in isolation. Throw in the economic flux of the job market, a splash of consistent restlessness, and you have a cocktail of underlying anxiety.

Caught in a web of thought and analysis-paralysis, I often spent more time pondering the future than acknowledging the present day.

Is This Everything You Wanted, Now That It's Everything You Have?

Is this everything you wanted, now that it’s everything you have?

This question haunts the intro of a song by singer/songwriter Noah Gundersen. At just 2 minutes and 16 seconds, the song is short but packs power like a summer thunderhead. I’ve listened to this song so many times in the last six months, and yet every time I hear it, it does that thing that all good songs do, making your heart feel like it just might burst from an inflation of emotion.

Is this everything you wanted, now that it’s everything you have?

On the surface, yes.

You Can Do Hard Things

“Would you rather be comfortable?” my roommate, Chelsey, asked me.

Work has weighed heavily on me these last several weeks, and on this particular day, I felt like I was on the precipice of a cliffside drop into a panic attack. As I boiled noodles and browned ground turkey, I shared my stresses with my friend as stray tears tried to make a quick getaway from my eyes.

Would I rather be comfortable or challenged?

Unwritten: Overcoming Fear and Doubt

You know that feeling when you first discover something and that something new-to-you suddenly appears everywhere? It happens to me a lot with words, the once unfamiliar expressions jumping from each subsequent page I read or floating through the air, only to rap on my eardrums.

Lately, I’ve felt that way about writing.

Keep Going: Thoughts on Celebrating Four Years of Windrose

I have given up on so many things.

Keep going isn’t exactly my life motto. I’m an instant-results girl, which is why cooking and 5-o’clock traffic bring me such mental anguish.

But today Windrose is celebrating four years of existing in this li’l Internet space—four years of stories told of navigating the challenges and triumphs of life in your twenties.

Waiting for Happy

For my entire life, this has been my dream. Freezing cold, sitting on the roof of my apartment, staring out at New York City in all its glory, at 2 o’clock in the morning, listening to Billy Joel. It really, truly does not get better than this.

But at the same time, it could.

Because there’s something that no one tells you about getting your dreams: Sometimes, it’s not what you thought it would be. Because sometimes, dreams change.

Career, Dreams, LifeRegan CunninghamNovember 22, 2016FeaturedComment

Hope Lost and Regained

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