It’s been three months since I packed what seemed like a million boxes and paid movers to load up a trailer, so I could move my life fifteen hundred miles away from my home of 33 years. When it’s put that way, three months seems like no time at all. Feels like just yesterday I was driving over to my mom’s house for some good eatin’ and lounging in her beach room.
Today I ordered a most delightful burrito for carry out from the bistro downstairs. It’s so dang good, but also so different from ‘home’. And this weekend I was at an actual beach in Malibu; not my mom’s beautifully decorated room with pastel walls, ocean inspired paintings, and a this really cool white reclining sofa to finish off the coastal theme. There are plenty days I’d choose it over the rich sands of Malibu.
It’s crazy, really. I can’t believe I actually moved.
You know, I dreamt of moving away (and specifically to California) for quite some time. And it was like I felt in my gut that somehow/some day it would happen. I didn’t know how or when, and honestly I often feared the regret I’d have if I never did. Regret is probably my greatest fear as a nearly 34 year old woman. It’s no longer failure or judgment. The fear is time passing me by.
And this move had a lot to do with that. I’ve had a few opportunities to move. One was after I sold my house in very early 2016. I wanted to do it so badly, but I didn’t feel ready. Something about it wasn’t right. I didn’t really question it; I just decided to take baby steps instead. So I moved to Downtown Houston. (You remember –if you’ve kept up with my journey.) That was a great move. I’m glad I did it still to this day. I could’ve saved a lot of money living in my hometown. In truth, my dad owns properties and rental homes/apartments all over in that town. But I needed that time. I needed to live for myself for once. Two divorces in your twenties will drain the life right out of you. Trust me. A complete reset was necessary.
Anyway, as wonderful as that move was, it wasn’t enough. And maybe in a few years California won’t be enough. Who knows?
The thing I’m most dedicated to right now is following the call when (and only when) I hear it. I think when we do that, our life can’t help but to align in the way it’s supposed to. But what I know for sure is that in order to hear the call and respond, you’ve gotta remain completely open. You can’t think you know what the call is gonna sound like and when it’ll mostly likely happen. You understand?
Be open so the good things can come in and fill you up.
I am still blown away by how things aligned from the very start of the transition to now. From randomly meeting a person last year who would lead me to the perfect school for my baby girl here in Cali, to friends (turned family) having a trailer, a huge truck, and a mama to visit in California this summer. What that meant was we didn’t have to hire movers OR rent a U-Haul and drive it ourselves. No, we got to take our time over a three day road trip and take the long, historic and scenic route from Texas to Cali. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky the whole way, and I saw one of the most brilliant sunsets of my life.
And THAT is exactly how this entire transition has felt: At ease. Free of anxiety or fear. Designed. Purposed. Right.
I’m here. I did it. It’s wild, but I know something really good is gonna come of it. I can feel it. Just like I felt I would one day live in California.
It’s something I just knew deep down.
“Trust your gut. It won’t lie to you.” –my mama
I'm back bloggin. I hope you're here for it. Got a lot of light to share! (and check out my updated website while you're here!)