Tag Archives: moving

Moving on

Hubby and I recently started talking about moving. I bought my home 13 years ago. I loved knowing I was a single woman in my 20’s buying property for no one but herself. I wasn’t waiting for marriage or for anyone to save me before making the leap, either. I have fond memories of my realtor walking me through the house, loving the layout, my walk-in closet and getting excited about being less than 10 minutes from work and the city.

I was so proud on the morning of my closing. My family and friends (except for one who was patronizing towards me) were happy for me. I felt like I had won, especially when I gripped the keys in my hands for the first time.

All these years later, I still feel a sense of pride for that young woman but I am also ready to say goodbye. I am at a stage where I know that although Hubby and I haven’t physically grown out of this place, emotionally we have moved on. I also realized there’s no permission needed to no longer hold on. I don’t need a security blanket.

We are slowly but surely making the changes we need. I am in no hurry to go. I am at peace with our decision even if we don’t know where we’ll be in a year or two.

I think this is what is called acceptance.

Saying Goodbye/Taking Chances

Tonight is our last night in California. Our conversations with the last two Lyft drivers provided some food for thought. Every time hubby and I travel to a new city, we ask the same question: Could we live here? As grateful as we were for the views, the food, the beauty and our time with my cousin, we both said “No” to the question about the Carlsbad/Encinitas area. We arrived at the Gas Lamp Quarter in San Diego yesterday morning and I immediately felt in sync with my environment. However, we are preparing to leave tomorrow morning and both of us wish we had more time here. We could use 2 or 3 more days right here so we could answer our question with confidence. We had lunch at Cafe Gratitude and walked down to the the Harbor waterfront area. Hubby proclaimed he could see living in the apartments down the street from the restaurant. We watched locals stroll along the water, their laminated IDs swinging from their necks and belt loops, lucky enough to work nearby the harbor and bathe in the sun during their breaks.

But back to the Lyft drivers. The one who took us to Balboa Park to go to the Zoo and museums told us he had been living here for seven months. He and his girlfriend visited from Philadelphia last January, looked at one another and made a decision to move here. Within a matter of months, they were in San Diego and found jobs days later. Our second driver moved here from Brazil fifteen years later and has not looked back. I know we are playing tourist but everyone we spoke to seemed so sure of the risk they took. Of course, it is unlikely people would pour out their deepest fears and insecurities to a complete stranger.

However, I choose to believe them. As someone who decided not to continue down a career path that would have been “just fine” and “safe”, I understand what it means to take a risk to become who you want to be. Sometimes, it means moving across the country, forging a new career path or choosing to end a relationship.

My future risk may not include an adventurous move across the country but I know I am open to the exploration of what comes next.

Your turn: What risks have you taken lately? Or what risk do you want to take?

The Addition

I don’t know if writing and wellness are inextricably linked but I am on a mission to find that out for myself. A fog has invaded.  I cannot say my body has to land at a certain number for the fog to dissipate. I do know that instead of subtracting from my life, there is much I need to add to it: feeding it the right things, moving more frequently and taking time to quiet the noise I invite in on a daily basis.

All of this addition will take discipline and structure. I need the clarity that discipline will bring. How can I expect to meet my goals if I am too tired to remember them on my best days? Though I have never really been able to call myself a shrinking violet, I do think my voice has become somewhat muffled. I am not consistently and aggressively pursuing all that I want. I know fear has held me in a vice grip. I yearn to loosen its hold by doing the work. The addition. When circumstance attempts to throw me into a tailspin, I will have a steady foundation built, brick and stone, sand left behind.

I commit to nourish, move and quiet myself and watch the effects unfold. I may walk a little taller and carry with me an air of peace or watch my skin glow with health again defying what doctors said about my psoriasis diagnosis. What I am ready to see is focus and determination blossom as I scribble and type and submit and hit Publish, over and over again.

Have you discovered a link between your writing and your wellness journey? Comment below. I would love to read your thoughts!