The House That Built Me

reflections from four years in Ballston

On Sunday, Ryan and I moved from our 650 square foot, natural-light-filled 12th floor apartment overlooking the DC skyline to an apartment in a different neighborhood of Arlington. While I am unbelievably excited to have more space (1100 square feet now!), ample closet space, and to be within walking distance of our climbing gym, I’m also grieving our former apartment way more than I thought I would.

I moved to Ballston, a neighborhood in Arlington, in May of 2018 to live with two friends. I very much grieved moving out of Washington, D.C. at the time. I had lived in Foggy Bottom for 4 years while studying at GW and loved having walkable access to the National Mall and most of downtown D.C. The friends I was moving in with already lived in Virginia so I didn’t have much choice in the matter. As excited as I was to live with them, I mourned the loss of my D.C. city girl life in Foggy Bottom. During the first couple months of living in Ballston, I met Ryan and he became an unofficial fourth roommate, much to my housemates’ chagrin.

During May of 2020 (a very forgettable time in the world), Ryan and I moved into an apartment two blocks from where I had lived with my friends. While it was small, had no bedroom door, and only one closet, I loved the giant windows and natural light. Ryan and I lived in that tiny, studio-ish apartment for four years, each year thinking we’d move. But each year we decided we couldn’t give up the views and neighborhood.

Ballston was not a thriving neighborhood when I moved there in 2018. But in the 6 years I’ve lived in Arlington, Ballston has turned into a hub for young professionals and families. Restaurants, parks, coffee shops, and green spaces have all materialized during those six years making Ballston a warm, friendly, and busy place to live.

Ballston has the Arlington central library (where I work as an assistant chief during election season), Lubber Run Farmer’s Market, Ballston Quarter Mall & Food Court, Target, Harris Teeter, the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation (sexy), and George Mason’s Scalia Law School (also sexy). Typing that list made Ballston feel less impressive, but I swear it is a wonderful place to live. Additionally, some of our closest friends live within walking distance of us in Ballston, making dinners, poker nights, and walks easy to plan spontaneously.

Everything changed when we got Fitz, in so many ways, but one of the major things we realized was that living in our current abode was not sustainable. Having no bedroom door made space without Fitz impossible when we were at home and the small apartment felt cramped with all of his stuff laying around.

By the time we were a month or two into owning Fitz, Ryan and I agreed that we would be moving to a bigger apartment in May 2024. We started touring apartments in March, eventually landing on an apartment in Crystal City, another neighborhood in Arlington.

Crystal City is not known for being community-driven, cohesive, or an aesthetic area. But in the last few years, especially with the addition of Amazon’s second HQ here, Crystal City has blown up. The infrastructure is so much better — bike lanes everywhere, coffee shops, food kiosks, well-maintained walking paths, a new community center. Even two years ago Ryan and I wouldn’t have ever considered living in Crystal City. It is still a relatively unknown and unappreciated area, so the rent pricing is pretty reasonable.

This weekend brought up a lot of emotions for me. My relationship with Ryan blossomed in our Ballston apartment — we fought, started a joint bank account, cried, did couples therapy, navigated COVID and working from home, adopted a dog, and changed jobs. I feel like I grew so much in the four years I lived in Ballston. I started intuitive eating, tried to adopt a joyful movement philosophy, began taking anxiety medication, started therapy for the first time in my life, all while dealing with a global pandemic.

Moving to Crystal City, even if it is only a few miles away from Ballston, feels like an abrupt next chapter. I feel ready to move and live in a bigger, more adult space, but I’m grieving the years of finding myself in that apartment. A piece of me will always be there.

Typing this all feels so sappy — it’s an apartment for gods sake. But your environment plays a huge role in your life. The apartment is a metaphor for a chapter of my life that is closing — four years of insane growth, falling in love and getting married, adopting a dog, changing jobs, developing confidence in my abilities. I’m so grateful for that space and who I became there.

So many of my favorite GW students graduate this weekend and I’m watching them navigate change with grace and grief. I remember the overwhelming sense of dread, but also relief that came with graduating college. There is something lovely and parallel about watching these students graduate and start a new chapter while I also start a new chapter, just in a different way. I can relate to them in a way that I haven’t been able to in awhile.

If you would have told me when I graduated from GW that at 28 I’d be living with my husband and dog in a two bed/two bath apartment, that would have been unconscionable. At that time my plan was to be political director for a pro-choice non-profit. Things change, often in the best ways, or in the only ways we’ll ever really know. Even though I’m grieving and mourning my Ballston life, I know I’m bringing that chapter with me in Crystal City. And who knows? Maybe a move to California next year will make this chapter short… Only time will tell.