Goodbye to All That


Tonight on my way home, I took one of my favorite walks. It’s the walk across DuPont circle around 9pm, in the summertime, when folks are draped over the fountain and park benches, savoring every moment of warm evening weather. I realized that this may be the last time I take that walk as a D.C. resident. Time is moving fast.

I came to D.C. four summers ago. My boyfriend at the time lived here, and I was a first semester post-bacc student who was growing weary of trying to do Gen Chem problems on bumpy, five-hour Boltbus rides. It seemed only logical to transfer programs and relocate, so that I wouldn’t have to feel as though my life was split geographically. Looking back, I was more nervous about the move than I let on to anyone, myself included, but I was determined to make it work: the relationship, my post-bacc, all of it.

That summer, the summer of 2011, was a sweltering and stormy one, even by the region’s standards. I spent it dressed up in goggles and long pants and close-toed shoes in a poorly ventilated, ancient Georgetown laboratory, where about thirty other post-bacc students and I set out to conquer Gen Chem II in five weeks. I woke up every day at quarter of six, walked along Canal Road in the wee hours to yoga, made it to class by eight, and spent the day in lecture and lab. At night, my friends and I would park at the library until midnight or even later, trudge home after completing the day’s work, crash, and do it all over again the next day. It wasn’t my hardest post-bacc semester, but it was probably the most sleepless one.

That summer, only weeks after arriving in the District, I came the sudden and largely unforeseen realization that my relationship probably wouldn’t survive through autumn. It was strange and sad and disorienting, and I spent much of my time wondering how something I had been so certain of could prove to be so different from what I’d thought.

This became the theme of my first two years in D.C.: things didn’t turn out the way I thought they would. The relationship, my life as a post-bacc: none of it was what I’d imagined. I came to D.C. certain that proximity would breathe new life into my romance and hopeful that my initial post-bacc struggles would give way to success in a smaller classroom environment. I didn’t plan on staying in the District forever–I always knew I’d find my way home to New York–but I thought that I’d find firm footing as an aspiring physician here, and envisioned myself leaving only when I’d been welcomed into some med school or another.

None of that, as we know, came to pass.

I didn’t come to D.C. to make friends. I didn’t come here to have fun. I didn’t come here to explore a new city. As far as I was concerned, I was on a mission, and developing any robust personal life would only distract me from my goal, which was to become a doctor. I didn’t need friends, I told myself; I had school to occupy my time. And I certainly didn’t need or care to explore Washington. Stubborn New Yorker that I am, I couldn’t imagine that I’d ever develop the kind of fondness for another city that I feel for my hometown. (The fact that 90% of my time was spent in the Georgetown library did little to inspire a sense of curiosity about the District as a whole). When I look back on my first year here in D.C., it seems like such a narrow, cloistered existence, all of it spent in the corridor between my Hobbit House and the Georgetown campus. It was hardly the way to begin life in a new place, but then, I didn’t know much about beginning life in a new place. I’d spent my first 29 years in a forty block radius. I’d never had to make a home away from home.

Lucky for me, D.C. reached out and embraced me in spite of the fact that I was so reluctant to embrace it. I see it as wonderfully ironic that the very things I didn’t come here looking for–friendship, community, and, ultimately, love–are the things that I’ll be taking away from my time in this beautiful city. The relationship that brought me here is not one that survived, and medical school–the goal around which I oriented so much of my time and energy–is not to be. But as I was grappling with these unexpected twists and turns, I came to appreciate D.C. more strongly than than I ever thought I would. I made friendships that I’ll cherish forever. I found a vibrant, welcoming, and wonderful community of peers and yogis and fellow wellness enthusiasts. I found an exceptional professional mentor. And, of course, I fell in love. Things didn’t turn out the way I’d planned, but they turned out pretty wonderfully, in the end.

Here’s what I’ll remember about my time in D.C.:

Walking along the highway to early morning yoga in the dead quiet of winter, wrapped up in my parka, my mat slung around my back, watching the sun rise over Virginia.

Leaving my five hour Orgo lab, lips blue from the cold of the room, and stepping out into D.C.’s incredible, enveloping early summer heat.

Walking home from evening class with my fellow post-bacc and neighbor, Dave, and catching the sight of a sunset over the Georgetown soccer field, all crimsons and purples. Sitting in Dupont circle on a late spring evening at dusk, watching the skateboarders.

I remember all-night study marathons with my peers, the way we became half delirious with coffee and fatigue and the sight of benzene rings. I remember how heightened our emotions were, how we all felt as if we’d sacrificed something huge to go back to school as a part of a tremendous gamble that might ultimately take us nowhere at all. I remember the camaraderie that broke through our layers of uncertainty, the way we’d all be so grateful for a bad joke or a nervous laugh or an inappropriate remark.

I remember sitting around with my genetics lab partner for hours one day as he carefully explained to me the nuances of unraveling a Holliday junction. I remember his patience, the way he refused to let me insult my own intelligence and insist that I was hopeless, that I’d never understand. I remember how calmly he told me to pick up my pencil and try each problem again, until I understood, and I remember how grateful I was when I finally did. Those kinds of friendships, and that kind of generosity: it’s a debt I’ll never be able to repay. I’m not going to become a doctor, but most of my post-bacc friends are, and I feel so proud to have passed through the fire by their side.

I remember the end of my post-bacc, when school was almost behind me and I began re-emerging into normal life. I remember how odd it seemed to be out at a bar, smiling and flirting; normal stuff, but at the time, it was as though I was a stranger in a foreign land. I remember how weird it felt to go out to dinner, to linger over a conversation or a phone call, to go to yoga without feeling as though I had to rush home and get back to work. I remember going to see movies again, and feeling as though it was some tremendous extravagance. Say what you will about intense grad school programs: they make you appreciate the little things.


I remember how it was when I discovered how beautiful the landscape of D.C. is: the green space, the circles, the parks, the monuments. I remember when it dawned on me that I was incredibly lucky to be able to walk to the mall. I remember hiking Old Rag and other parts of Shenandoah, amazed at the foliage and views. D.C. is a rich and interesting place to live in so many ways: culturally, geographically, visually. In my last year and a half here, after I moved out of the Hobbit House and said goodbye to Georgetown, I began exploring it in earnest, getting to know new neighborhoods, trying new restaurants, seeing concerts and art and getting outdoors more often. I’m so glad I stayed here for my “gap year,” because without that time, I might never have come to appreciate this city as much as I do.

I remember the highs and lows of this past winter. I remember being huddled at home, shivering my way through the flu, burning with fever and grappling with the fact that med school had become decidedly unlikely and trying to figure out what would come next. And I remember walking through District streets in April and May, the theme of springtime renewal more poignant to me than it had ever been, realizing that my future was plenty bright without an acceptance letter. I remember the first few months of my life with my current partner, which weren’t so long ago; I remember how happy we both were to have found each other, to have slipped so easily into a love that was sweet and solid and real.

At the beginning, I told myself that the D.C. years were just a weigh station on my way to longer journeys ahead. When you do a post-bacc, it feels as though you’ve put your life on hold en route to a bigger and larger goal. You tell yourself that you’ve simply got to keep your head down and stay focused and survive it all. But in spite of the fact that I felt as if my life was on hold, it wasn’t. Life was happening, all around me, whether I planned on it or not. The memories I’ve just shared add up to a rich, textured, and vibrant three years of life experience.

I’ll never look back on my time in D.C. as easy, or fun, or even very happy; there were pockets of intense happiness and joy, but this phase of my life was a crucible from start to finish. Even so, I’m positive that I’ll one day remember these last few years as some of the most significant of my whole life. They were the years in which I learned to accept new challenges, to reshape my life without the safety and comfort of what’s familiar, to humbly accept that I cannot do anything I set my mind to and I can’t have everything I want. They are the years in which I came to terms with how fleeting and fragile and fast life is, the years in which the idea of non-attachment started to resonate with me. I think that my life in D.C. helped me to become a better person. And I am so glad that I found myself here, even for a few years. I need to create a new path forward this year, and I want to do it in New York. But I’m leaving D.C. with a tremendous sense of gratitude for all it has given me.

By the time this post is published, I’ll probably be unpacking on the upper west side. As I write, though, I’m sitting at my table in my D.C. studio, gazing out the window and feeling all sorts of nostalgia and strangeness about leaving the city in which I’ve spent such colorful, dramatic, and important years. This won’t be goodbye; I now have a family in the District, a group of people whom I love dearly, and I’ll be visiting before too long.

In the meantime, I’ll soon be back in magical New York, where I’ll one again be given a fresh start. This time, I’ll be a little less goal-oriented and a little more open to life’s surprises. And I’ll be sharing my life (and my apartment) with a new partner. As many of my blog readers have said to me since I wrote my 32 post: onwards.

By the time I post weekend reading, I’ll be able to tell you how good it is to be home. Goodnight, all.


Image of Dupont Circle courtesy of Larry Chang.

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Categories: Food and Healing

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  1. It’s funny how you envision things turning out a certain way… and they rarely come out as we expect. You’d think we’d learn ;p I’m the same way.
    I am very happy that things worked out well for you =) I’m excited to keep following your blog and see where the wind takes you.

  2. Beautiful tribute to your time here, Gena, and all the personal change you’ve undergone. I’m trying my best to feel at home in DC right now. Home is a challenging concept when your life is chopped into segments in different cities, and each segment of time feels like it’s own world. I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you again before you left. Cheers to finding love in DC, it worked for me! ๐Ÿ™‚

  3. Gena, your writing is so beautiful as always. This brought tears to my eyes. What you said about putting life on hold really resonated with me. And realizing that life is happening all around you. I tend to do that sometimes, too, so this was really helpful. So artfully stated. I’m so happy that you are continuing to blog and share your food and words with us.

  4. Oh, Gena.
    This is incredibly poignant yet romantic. As a DC-lover through-n-through, my heart feels full for you & the experiences you came to love and appreciate while it spoiled you in the best ways. ๐Ÿ™‚ This also makes me a little homesick, but forever happy that I’ve been lucky enough to call home at various points in life. Cheers to the adventures that define us and the ones yet to come!

    • Awww, Heather! It’s so strange to me that we were just in DC eating SweetGreen a few months ago, and now we’re on opposite coasts. So glad we became friends in the District, and yes, cheers to that cheers! XO

  5. You are an amazing person for using your life-skills to embrace difficult changes in such a positive way. It’s inspiring.

  6. This is a wonderful tribute to your time in D.C., Gena! I always marvel at our ability to recall a particular time in our lives with a poetic fondness, but to feel often utter hopelessness in the moment. I’m so excited to hear about your experiences back in New York. xo

  7. New chapters are always a mixture of nostalgia, anticipation, and apprehension. It must be great comfort that you are moving back to a place you so clearly feel is home. I can’t relate to that particular feeling, as I don’t feel any particular connection to where I grew up, but I can relate to that mixture of feelings a new chapter brings. I look forward to seeing what it brings for you! I’ve loved reading the recent thoughts and reflections on your blog about the post-bacc, the book, and your relationship (though you’ve shared only a little, it’s a rare insight for your readers!). I wonder if New York will feel any different after 4 years. Maybe you won’t have the same feelings I do when I visit my hometown, since you were a mere train ride away (and not two days worth of flying), but I very much related to Bill Bryson’s book, I’m a Stranger Here Myself. As he says, โ€œComing back to your native land after an absence of many years is a surprisingly unsettling business, a little like waking up from a long coma.โ€ I doubt you will feel such an extreme, but I’d be interested in hearing, in a few months time, whether it feels different at all.

    I am about to embark on a new chapter myself – a move to the UK! Just after I get my Australian citizenship, I am uprooting again to be an immigrant. It’s a bit mad, but you go where the jobs take you in academia, and my husband has just got one in Liverpool.

    • So far, I must confess that NYC feels exactly the same: so familiar, so much like home. In fact, within four days D.C. has started to feel like a dream I had. Life is so weird.

      Congrats on your new adventures, Sarah! Change is wonderful. I’ll be thinking of you.

  8. I am so happy for you ๐Ÿ™‚ This was beautifully written – it is really strange to leave a place that holds such strong and potent memories. I know that you will most likely have mixed feelings about D.C forever – because of its intense ups and downs.

    I am so excited to read on with you as your next chapter begins. I know only amazing things are in store for you.

    Also, living together is THE BEST.


    • Thanks so much, Ali! Living together is sweet so far. And I hope you’re right, about what’s ahead. <3

  9. I appreciate, so truly, the vulnerability and loveliness of your words. I am grateful for the ways in which experiences like these are able to make stronger human connections–(I just relate to so much of what you wrote, especially regarding a sudden post-move breakup, which we’ve connected on before!). And having moved away from three different homes now, I know how saying goodbye has the ability to put so much into perspective. I also know how even when I thought my PhD program was keeping me from “real life,” that I lived harder and more deeply than I ever had before. Thank you for your words. Thank you for making me feel less alone (not just in this post, but in so many of your writings and green recovery writings). Congratulations on every day forward!

    • Thanks so much, Raechel! Grad school is such a funny thing, and I do think that it deceives you into feeling as though life is on hold, even if it’s some of the most vibrant and intense life experience one can ever have. I wish you luck, adventure, and happiness as you move forward.

  10. Oh Gena, I love this! Happy you’re heading back to NY with such clarity and hope, even though I’ll miss you in DC ๐Ÿ™‚

    Also, it’s so true that the years as a postbac make you feel like you’re putting your life “on hold.” I felt that way then and was worried I’d feel that way this year as a med student too – but I just work on reminding myself that this IS my life, whether or not it looks like everyone else’s. Xoxo

    • Yes. The road to becoming a doctor is simply too long to be categorized as a stepping stone; I think you have to see every chapter of it (post-bacc, med school, residency, fellowship), as part of the whole experience of being a physician. It took me a while to learn that.

      I miss you already! Come visit me in NYC ๐Ÿ™‚

  11. Lovely post! Life is so funny like that, I can relate in many ways. I am so excited to see what this new journey brings you…I have a feeling it’s going to be a fun one:)

  12. This was so relevant to me as I’m moving from NYC to DC to be closer to my boyfriend as well. Everything I’ve ever known is in NY, so I’m off to an adventure. Thanks for giving me strength. ๐Ÿ™‚

    • Oh, Amy! Good luck. I’ll root for you. DC is an awesome place to find yourself — wave to the District for me.

  13. Gena,

    Beautiful post. You are a gifted writer.

    I really appreciate your being vulnerable and sharing your experiences, for admitting that we can’t have it all and that no matter how hard we try- some things will just not come to be.

    Acceptance. It’s a beautiful thing. People would do well to practice acceptance instead of living in a state of perpetual delusion: the idea that a “can do” attitude will make all your dreams come true.

    I would welcome more posts like this one, thoughts and reflections on life in addition to your recipes. I enjoy these kinds of posts by you the most.

    With Love,


    • Samitha, I can’t tell you how much comments like this mean to me. There’s such beauty in recognizing (accepting, as you say) that we can’t do or have anything and everything; that sometimes stuff doesn’t work out. That acceptance, really, is what opens us up to all sorts of surprising experiences.

    • Such a good essay. And it was a nod to Robert Graves’ memoir, which is also great. Glad you caught the reference. See you on the UWS, I hope.

  14. I know how you feel – goodbyes can be so bittersweet. Additionally, sometimes the hardest things in life are the most important and ultimately rewarding. Hopefully, your arrival home will be filled with joy and welcoming. New York is truly a great city; you are so lucky to get to live there!

  15. Congratulations on your move back to New York Gena! One door closes, many more open…

  16. As inspiring and emotion-inducing as ever Gena. All your latest posts are making me teary!
    I’m excited for both of us. I’m finishing my year away as a master’s student and heading back to London for the next stage of life…
    I also hope to embrace what comes my way and be less goal-focused, but still determined (since that’s just my personality after all). Lots of love and courage E xxx

    • Emma, we can support each other through all of the change and all of the transition and all of the certainty. I’m so excited for you to enter a new chapter!

  17. Even though I don’t know you well (even after following for 5+ years haha), I feel like I knew exactly what you were saying here. And that you put it so well, picking out exactly the right parts in just the right way! Congratulations on the transition. I’m so happy for you <3

  18. Beautiful! I’m glad that your time in D.C. gave you so many blessings – even if they weren’t the ones for which you were looking.

  19. Great post! Onward. Can’t wait to see where life takes you. Sure sounds like it is starting out really well.

  20. Dear Gena,
    I can’t believe it has been four years, I remember so clearly when you announced your intention to go back to school! I was probably sitting in a cubicle and hating it then too, wow how life can change. Your time there sounds brutal, but am so happy for you things are looking up now. Glad you’re still writing the blog after all this time!

  21. Beautifully written. I feel as though I have lived your journey with you. Best wishes as you begin the chapter of your life!

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