Katie Regan

Writer. Editor. Explorer. Creator.

Tag: Denver

Upon Leaving Colorado

June 9, 2018 / / 0 Comments

I sold my stuff, I left Denver… and it felt weird.  Brief reflections upon leaving what was my home for the past 7 years.

Colorado Rockies

Appreciating what Colorado has to offer

Boy, this feels weird. What has been my life for the past nearly 7 years is no longer. I keep having flashes, most of them mundane. A walk around my neighborhood. The inside of a friend’s house. Old hobbies and habits that have been broken. Old belongings that were always just there that are gone now. Mountain treks and favorite little haunts. It’s a very surreal feeling. I spent my time at DIA in a bit of a fog, feeling hungry and nauseous all at once. I miss my people. I miss my life. I know my new life is going to be awesome (or at the very least strange and different), and it’s something I’ve wanted for a really long time. But right now, a part of me mourns the life I’ve left behind. Like, a Santiago’s burrito would be really great right now.

At least the mountains showed up for me on my last day. They rose majestically to the west as we made our way to the airport. Snow-capped and friendly, reminding me that they, too, would still be there if and when I decide to come back to town.

I get really sentimental about change, I guess. I always have. Leaving my first Denver apartment, I was flooded with emotion. At 8th grade graduation, I was the awkward kid sobbing on stage as we performed the choral rendition of “We’ve Only Just Begun.” Despite the fact that we were all going to the same high school, I was feeling sentimental about times past. The memories in that particular building. I know it sounds cheesy, but it’s how my mind works when I move on from one thing to another.

Crying Graduation 90s

Sometimes, you cry unnecessarily at 8th grade graduation. Sometimes, it’s 1997 and you’re wearing a kick-ass choker.

My apartment in Denver wasn’t all that much to speak of, but it was cozy and it was mine. It was full of comfort and warm memories. In fact, some of its best memories were formed in the most recent months. The fact that that time period in my life is over feels very strange to me. That it’s not all just sitting there, waiting for me to return.

March 8, 2018 / / 1 Comment

Sometimes you need to leave a letter on the nightstand and get outta town…

Downtown Denver

Dear Denver,

I’m breaking up with you. We both know this has been a long time coming. I have certainly threatened it numerous times. No, no. It’s not you. Well, maybe it’s a little you. But, in reality, you’re lovely. There are so many things about you that I love. Skiing, mountains, Colfax, burritos. In fact, I am sitting in Tattered Cover as I write this, and boy will I miss Tattered Cover. I don’t even want to talk about the weather. Your weather is damn near perfect, albeit a little dry. Despite all the wonderful things about you, you’re just not for me. It’s just not working.

We’ve had some good times. You taught me to ski. You taught me that sometimes a breakfast burrito can fill the void of a breakfast sandwich. You made me new pals. You gave me my only relationship in over a decade, for a time. You showed me beautiful vistas, and mountain towns, and peaks I never would have thought I could have summited. That’s all been great. Shoot, I got a mountain tattoo, you know it had to mean something.

Denver Art

Even professionally, it hasn’t been all bad. I’ve met some wonderfully amazing, challenging, hilarious, and intelligent students. Really top-notch kids. My passion for equity and quality in education has become more informed, more targeted, and I hope I don’t lose sight of that. Even in some of my least-loved jobs I have made amazing friends and met really wonderful people.

While I cherish those memories, they don’t change the fact that you broke me. I came to Denver a confident, capable person. I had pep in my step, stars in my eyes. Then, six years later, I found myself in a heap. I had been dashed against the rocks, time and time again. I take credit for mistakes I’ve made in this time, but it was those mistakes coupled with circumstance that lead me to a dark night in November when I finally meant it when I said, “I can’t do this anymore.”

It was not only that you had robbed me of money, career prospects, or “success,” but you had robbed me of my confidence. That is something I cannot allow. I no longer had faith in myself, in my work. It turns out that confidence is something of a self-fulfilling prophecy; if you don’t think you can, you can’t.

So, I’m taking it back. I am taking myself back. I can no longer pretend to pander to this job market, to those who are not worthy, to those who doubt me and make me doubt myself. I know this is hard, it is hard for me too. Know that I think of you kindly. We can still be friends, maybe even hook up every now and then. I’ll be back to share a meal or a drink or a friendly ski. We just can’t live together anymore. I hope you understand.

Warmest regards,

Katie  

Denver, CO Sunset

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