Mill Town

This town I live in is what they call a “mill town”. It is a town filled with old mills of yesteryear. I think this might be the reason.

When I first was scouting out places for rent in the areas surrounding my new job, I hadn’t quite fallen in love with any area like I had this one (and I get to live here, now! Lucky, eh?). Being reminiscent of the Goldilocks story, one town was too touristy and bustling, but in all the ways I prefer not to bustle. Another appeared to be virtually untouched by tourists… or much of anyone, like something out of a Stephen King book, really. Which! Would have been perfect to plummet and fully immerse into the madness I love most - writing - however, not ideal for keeping sane at a customer service job anywhere outside of my house.

And then, there was Mill Town. Mill Town was juuusst right. It reminded me of a slightly larger version of the place I called home (also a mill town) and felt as if it had just enough livable/explorable space and was safe enough with just enough of an edge. I returned to Mill Town quite a few times before I landed, scouring the area for anything; a one-bedroom, studio, even a rentable room with common areas. However, once I got here, this darker side fell upon me. Suddenly it didn’t feel livable or explorable or safe. It simply felt strange and dangerous and I quickly wondered what I had done. Where was the fun and excitement and comfort that drew me here? That kicked me into such a high gear to buckle down and get here? Then I realized the problem.

I wasn’t really seeing daylight.

Literally - the job I had entered threw me into a different, sloppy sleep-pattern where I would sleep whenever I possibly could and rise only for work. At night. And return home even later at night. Any days I had fully off were spent hitting the highway and returning for a home visit to spend time with my mother, sister and boyfriend. Of course no place is going to feel great so late at night, and of course it’s going to feel a bit more dangerous; it’s unexplored territory! Unknown lands and people, and there I was alone and afraid of the dark! Once I realized this, I made more of a conscious effort to be awake and stay in town - no matter how it pained me - more often when I didn’t have to work. A little earlier on days that I did.

Since then I have grown to fully appreciate exactly what Mill Town has to offer me; another form of freedom. Being able to get up, get dressed, go downstairs and venture in a new place. Walking here and there, attending new restaurants and returning to my new favorite spots.

A place may suddenly seem dark and horrible, but often you can still find the light.