It’s almost my 1-year anniversary of moving to California and I’ve been thinking I should write a letter.
Dear California,
Happy 1-year anniversary. Where do I even begin? In hindsight, I probably never should have moved into your confusing embrace. If I had a do-over, I would have chosen differently, and with where I am today, there is no way I’d do this again. This *gestures wildly* took a very special energetic investment one doesn’t come by many times in their life. Per my spirituality, I’m where I’m meant to be, but my logical and emotional minds share a very different opinion from my spiritual one. Meant to be and should be are vastly different concepts—perhaps I’m conflating.
A few months ago, I was deliriously happy. I was proud of myself. I looked back at my time since April 2024, and I felt strong. I felt hopeful and thought I was on my way to something. Between events in the world and in my life, the perplexities (wow, the perplexities!) caught up. I don’t recognize that optimistic wanderer anymore.
I’m hurt but I am trying to be grateful. California has opened wounds I never intended to touch. Eventually, you have to change neglected bandages, but I sort of forgot they existed. Intellectually (and financially) I know I’ve spent a lot of time working on myself….but did I? Did I do any work at all? Honestly, what the fuck? I know feeling this hurt is important, but the wounds feel brand-spanking-new.
Although I didn’t give up after everything-and I do mean everything- blew up in my face, perhaps I should have. I didn’t leave completely but I’ve taken every opportunity to momentarily escape. Since arrival, I’ve spent approximately 73 days outside of California. These last 12 months have been so much. Too much? Maybe. Just enough? God, I hope so.
What have I done with this time?
I’ve spent it escaping, exploring, healing, reconnecting, giving space, taking space, celebrating, crying, grieving. I’ve connected, blossomed, collapsed into a million pieces, considered driving into the Pacific, laughed, screamed, stared into the abyss, loved with all my heart, and learned what it feels like to run to something and away from something at the same time. I’ve taken trains, subways, ferries, Lyft, taxis, rides from friends, misdirections from my GPS, flights, and buses. I’ve contemplated changing my career, toed the line of delusion, danced, cooked, mixed, drawn, and painted.
I’ve taken liberties, advice (good and bad), screenshots, thousands of pictures, baggage off the carousel, skincare advice, and medication. I’ve found the lowest depth of my heart, and just when I saw the floor and braced for landing, the floor gave out again, and I was still falling. I’ve never fallen so fast, and I’ve never looked so forward to a landing I don’t know how to stick and I know is definitely going to fucking hurt, but I need to touch the ground so I can stand-instead-of-flail through the air. Maybe I can’t blame California for *gestures again, more wildly* all of this. Maybe this was all inevitable. Regardless of my physical location, I was going to end up here. In this cute little chaos realm.
I’ve learned a lot of life the last year and made connections that will last a lifetime and a few that will abso-fucking-lutely not. Connections with people, concepts, and feelings. This sentence doesn’t feel like it fits in this confessional but it’s staying because it’s important to me. So…
Where do I go from here? Me with my little notebook and chronic migraines. What is next for me? I like my therapist, and she’s licensed here. My body needs me to be somewhere, but who knows where. I thought I knew, but love is tricky. I’m not broken but I’ve taken a lot of hits in a short period of time, and my brain can’t process anymore. I’m ready for something though–I know I am.
California, I love you. You build, you break, you do iconic shit, you tempt, you borrow, you steal, you give, you are stolen land. I don’t belong here. Thank you for showing me. With a grateful heart and the utmost respect, I will bid thee farewell as soon as I figure out what is next. I am not trying to overstay my welcome. I hate that feeling.
Some people ride you til you’re tamed but wild horses are best left to roam freely.
With a light heart and something I’ll understand later,
<3 hs