Onewoman.Bigcity.and.Adream

I have been in the windy city for over a month and feelings of uneasiness remain. While speaking to a friend the other evening, we began chatting about summer adventures and exploring the outdoors. I have enjoyed the scenery of the big city immensely, but have cultivated an odd feeling, not one of emptiness or feelings typically associated with being homesick—rather one of being overwhelmed. I assumed it to be the anticipation of my upcoming PhD program, but was unconvinced this was the sole or primary reason.

As of late, I spend my days lackadaisically—sleeping in, exercising, walking to the post office, doodling on the internet, and drinking coffee. I enjoy not having a vehicle, as it allows me to observe and appreciate my new neighborhood. While on the lakefront trail, I was able to hone in on this unfamiliar feeling I had been having; it was a feeling of anxiety.

Around May this year, I had experienced a panic attack, involving a fear of drowning. I thought this was peculiar, being I am very comfortable in the water and consider myself to be a strong swimmer. The anxiety I have been feeling is similar to that of a panic attack, but not exactly. I wondered if I was underestimating my nervousness to begin my program. It came to me a few nights ago in my sleep; this feeling of uneasiness and anxiety was actually claustrophobia.

Now that I was able to identify the feeling or fear, it was time to decipher its meaning. I am a spatial person; I take notice to distances, dimensions, geometric configurations, etc. This originated from my early interest in mathematical representations of the world— anything can be described by equations. Am I over-stimulated? An easy assumption, but not a great fit.

I remembered a series of conversations with a few professors I had had in Wyoming. Both spoke about (1) the Wyoming legacy and the qualities unique to the culture/area; and (2) of the politics of place, and the implications an individual’s connection to their geographical surroundings had on political climate (a more thorough examination of Locke’s: politics and climate). Bingo.

I crave the feeling of being between nothing and everything. Living in Big Piney wasn’t satisfactory. Standing on a single road you can see the edge of town, town itself, the end of town, and miles upon miles beyond. However, living in Laramie was different. Biking a few miles in either direction led you to completely different worlds—Vedauwoo to the east, Medicine Bow Peak to the West, and Roger’s Canyon to the North—an opportunity to feel alone, yet complete at the same time. Being able to enjoy the majesty of the earth in all her beauty. As my friend Connie states repeatedly, “There is something about an open, gold prairie swaying in the wind that just makes you feel at home.” And when all is said and done, you can return to town to mingle with people with a degree of separation equaling one.

In Chicago, it is miles upon miles of apartments, grocery stores, department stores, buses, people … people … people. Suddenly, it is no longer 500 persons/square mile, but 12,000! The sky is condensed to the size of a kaleidoscope, and the mountains of the skyline are constructed only of steel. Earth is no longer to be seen, only man and machine.

This is what Wyoming is about. It is not about the old west of cowboys and Indians and conservatism, it is about being constantly reminded and respecting the delicate balance between man and nature. Wyoming is humble, the closest to the truth, never pretending to be something it’s not.