Growing Pains

I moved to Chicago ten days ago and managed to have an existential crisis between moving boxes. Moving is overwhelming, as anybody who has ever done it can tell you. Anxiety runs rampant through stuffed paper and mounds of packing tape. Eerily enough, I was calm—during the packing process and through our cross-country roadtrip. There was a tsunami cresting and I was still as it rose, peaceful as the water broke over my head. In between the rise and the fall, that's when I cried. I'm 23 and have always known my next step. After high school I went to college. During my summers I interned and worked and built my resume. One year post-grad, and there is a wide open horizon. It's terrifying. Turns out, being 23 feels like that for a lot of people. Somehow, though, it still seems like everyone else has it figured out a little better than I do.  When I decided to move, my plan was: 1) get to Chicago 2) get a serving job 3) look for a different job once I have stable income 4) prep...