Breaking Up With Berlin
Last week I missed my flight accidentally on purpose back to Berlin. Accidentally because I left my passport in one of those plastic bins while going through security, something I’d never done before. On purpose because prior to my careless mishandling of a precious document, I was trying desperately to ignore a sinking feeling in my stomach about returning to a city I used to adore. I think I may have subconsciously manifested my carelessness.
Returning to Berlin used to be my favorite feeling in the world. Sure I loved the sights and sounds of visiting far-off lands but there was something so grounding about touching down in Berlin. Funnily enough, that gray and drizzly tarmac in the nation’s capital used to light me up.
Now though - returning there felt like a punishment, a reminder that I no longer belong.
For the past few months, I have been attempting to find a flat in Berlin. The process of gathering documents, renewing expired credit reports, sending applications, and attending apartment viewings with many hopeful others only to be ignored when you follow up days and weeks afterward - was not only exhausting it was demeaning.
On more than one occasion I asked myself - is this really what I want? Do I really want to live in a city that no longer feels aligned with my soul? Furthermore, does this city even want me?
When I first arrived in the city 8 years and some months ago, my heart was exploding with happiness at the endless possibilities. I loved how free I felt there, loved that my rent only cost 400 euros a month, and that the city was filled with people from all over the globe who had felt a similarly magnetic pull towards the land of techno and kebabs. I used to call Berlin a playground for adults.
Fetish clubs, peculiar art installations, dance parties that lasted for days on end, naked sunbathing at the many surrounding lakes. It seemed you could be anything you wanted to be here. And then some.
That meant that the city also attracted a lot of confused people, people who were exploring new identities and ways of life leaving them little time to be careful with their bodies or with one another’s hearts. It also meant it attracted a lot of people who took pleasure in pumping their bodies full of chemicals multiple times a week, a pastime I’d also dabbled with on occasion.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not judging Berlin or those who still find comfort in her arms. Without a doubt, Berlin helped shape me into the wild woman I am today. I no longer wear makeup, I panic when I can’t sort my trash, and I not only accept my body and all her flaws but I love how she carries me in the world and on the dance floor. I also have no qualms about stripping down naked in the sauna or at an FKK lake (FKK how I love thee), can furnish an entire apartment and transform my wardrobe with things collected from the street (zu verschenken, baby), dance with my whole soul whenever possible taking delight in my body’s strength, accept alternative lifestyles wholeheartedly and have become a lifelong advocate for anyone feeling othered in society.
But now - now I’ve outgrown the confines of her arms.
Instead, I long for wide open spaces, spaces that are wider than the length of Tempelhof. I long for sun on my face daily, not just a few weeks out of the year. I long for a slower lifestyle, one that supports the nourishing of my body and spirit.
And so, I think it’s time for me to break up with Berlin for good…
I’m not sure where I’ll go next, but for now, I am enjoying having clarity about the kind of life I want to live.
