A Small Town Trial

For just over 4 years of my life, I lived in small town USA, located just off interstate 80 in the midst of cornfields and nothingness. Why oh why would I live there? My career. I had an opportunity to forge ahead and I grabbed it. Little did I know that this would be one of my most interesting journeys to date.

Oh, small towns. They have their charm. The little one off food joints that taste like heaven, the shops that sell anything from darling necklaces to deer antlers. I knew where the best food was, where not to shop, and exactly where all the best cemeteries were.

I began living the small town life in an apartment from hell, complete with giant spiders and a neighbor making meth. Then I hit the jackpot and had an amazing apartment for dirt cheap. I'm paying double for something smaller here in the burbs.

Unfortunately with every small town comes the usual weirdness. Everyone knows everyone, so I stuck out like a punk in a prep school. During the first couple of weeks I lived there, I had women talking about me while I shopped the local craft store, and a lot of customers point blank ask me who I was and where I came from when dealing with me at my job. Needless to say, not exactly a town full of tact.

I was cast as an outsider at work, and considered an oddball for being in my mid 20s, unmarried, and childless. Most were horrified when I told them that I had no plans to have children. I had to deal with a workplace that was a clique of older people that disliked me not only because I was new to their routine, but I was also a young woman that was in charge. The horror!

As time went by, I grew thicker skin and learned not to take the small minded comments and perception personal. I dealt with the most difficult co-workers I have yet to come across, including a 50 year old mom who tried desperately to be young, an assistant that had an incredibly mean, selfish spirit, and a few men that hated me because I had a vagina that wasn't old and decrepit.

There were days I went home and shut out the world. I didn't care about the small town functions, who beat up who at the local hole in the wall bar, or who drove drunk but got off because they were friends with the cop.

Contrary to my post this far, it wasn't all bad. I met a few of the kindest, most genuine people that I might ever meet. I even had a few moments there that I laughed so hard I had to run to the bathroom. I found one of my favorite tombstones there. I got addicted to pork tenderloin sandwiches from a little joint that had wood paneled walls.

I didn't keep the contacts I made when I moved. I keep in touch with one amazing lady who shares my fascination of ghosts and can decorate a cake like no other. Im not sure if I want to forget it all, but I sure don't want to keep the memories alive.

It's been a year since I've gotten out of that little town, and life has changed so much. I can see my boyfriend on a regular basis (hell, we're moving in together in a week), I have the love of my life Rudy, and I can go out in public without having to deal with people being socially weird to me. I feel good away from there. I'm happy.

Maybe I was too paranoid there, maybe I felt the hand of judgement coming down on me a little too hard. What I consciously did do was really become a strong woman that I'm proud to be.