It was twenty years ago today that I headed west. I loved Nashville, but I was a mess, and it was time for me to go. Struggling to believe the day had finally arrived, I stopped for one last coffee at Fido, then steered my car toward California.
The unique date of my departure (May 5, 2005, or 05/05/05) wasn’t intentional, but I’m glad it happened that way, because every Cinco de Mayo I can’t help but remember that turning point with fondness and gratitude.
I was three weeks shy of my 33rd birthday, which made me a grown man, but looking back, in many ways I was hardly more than a child. I certainly didn’t know what I didn’t know—which was a lot.
I had lived in Music City since I was 21, and I'd been in survival mode for much of that time, not just financially but also emotionally. I'd made a few too many bad decisions, been ensnared by fear/shame/guilt too many times, met with too many dead ends. It was taking everything I had just to stay afloat. I was repeating the same cycles over and over, and I felt I couldn't right the ship without making a dramatic break. So I spent eight months winding down and wrapping up my Nashville life, and then I left it all behind.
I took about five days to make the memorable 2,000+ mile drive to the City by the Bay. There's nowhere like the wide open spaces of the American west. With stretches of 80 empty miles between exits, the trip gave me a lot of room to breathe, and a lot of time to think.
I arrived in San Francisco with whatever I’d been able to cram into my car, and only $5,000 to my name. That was it. I had no furniture, much less a plan. I slept on an air mattress on the living room floor of some friends for six weeks or so1 while I looked for a job and then an apartment.
Ever so slowly, the new life I built in California saved me from myself, though not without a fight. I started to figure out who I really wanted to be and the life I really wanted to live. I grew up a lot. I came (all the way) out of the closet and married the love of my life. I went through tons of therapy. I learned how to take better care of myself. I came to grips with the fact that I have to draw lines in the sand, put stakes in the ground, and fight for what I believe in if I want to call my life my own.2
A few years ago, my husband and I knew it was once again time to go, and we made an even bigger move—to Italy.
I’m in my early 50s. I’ve lived 18 years in Michigan, 3 in Chicago, 11 in Nashville, 17 in California, and now going on 3 in Milan. I'm very grateful for each place I’ve lived, for the lessons I learned there and the lifelong friendships I made. I wouldn't have it any other way.
What about you? Did you have a “05/05/05” of your own? What kind of decisions did it require of you, and what have you learned since because of it? Do you have any regrets? Advice for others facing a 05/05/05 of their own?
Thank you, R. and J.! Eternally indebted.
These are lessons I continue to learn, some days more successfully than others.
Oh wow, these pictures! The Nissan. The open road. How, how can it have been 20 years? I'm so happy for you that all of your moves have worked out so well for you. And so grateful that through mostly your efforts, we've been able to stay close over these years. All your visits, thoughtful cards to the kids, never a birthday missed. I'm so grateful for old friends but I'm more grateful that I still just LIKE you so much. You're still one of the most delightful people I know - who now has married one of the most delightful people I know. Every blue moon I'll hear that David Meade "Nashville" song on 100 or on a playlist and it brings me back to those teary days in May. It's so brave to blow up your life to make a better one someplace else. xoxo
Yes, moving away from Nashville (after 25 years) was a huge leap of faith...like, the literal kind of faith where you can't see anything ahead. I just knew I need a new perspective on my life, one that had been thwarted during my time in BNA. These kinds of leaps are not for the faint of heart, but for me, has brought about the most beautiful new life, filled with more mystery and uncertainty and love than I ever hoped for. When you rip the band-aid off, you'll find you are a lot stronger than you ever imagined.