If someone were to put together a tutorial about letting go, I’d be the Subject Matter Expert. Not a professional or a doctor, but me. I know how to do it; I know how to let go. I’ve been through it; I’ve experienced it. I am good at it.
I grieve appropriately for people, but don’t live in the past. For example, I can share laughs and memories about my parents and cry about them when I’m alone. But I don’t obsess over what could have been; I have my regrets, or course. Reminiscing is more productive than dwelling.
When it comes to relationships, I’ve let go of people I still loved who were not good for me. I knew their toxicity meant they were not the one. This applies to friends as well.
And jobs. When that natural shift comes and it has been time for the next step, I have never been one to stay at a place that does not help me grow.
I also closed this blog when the time was appropriate. Because, after all, who can have a blog that features a place where the author does not live?
As my two-week visit home comes to a close, I find myself writing in this blog again, 11 months after I closed it.
I realized that I have been waiting for this moment that I knew I’d soon be moving home once again. While I am happy to be going back to DC to see my friends, I have also never been sadder to leave Cali.
If I’m being very honest, I don’t know how to explain this whole thing to my friends in DC. I love them. I love DC. I will miss them, and all of it. I am afraid they will feel as if they are not enough, that my lack of full happiness there has something to do with them. That’s completely untrue. They are the ones who created my DC happiness for two years. They have no idea how much they have taught me and saved me.
My relationship with the South Bay, however, never really ended. I left it for a hot minute, maybe even criticized it once or twice. I recall once saying that I’d never want to leave DC. Maybe part of my heart will always be in DC, but who am I kidding?
The South Bay annoys me at times.
I hate how some people get stuck.
I love the people playing volley ball on the beach in the middle of the day.
I hate the drunk idiots on Pier Avenue on a Saturday night.
But why do I know about those drunk idiots? Because I continue to go there.
Love. Hate. It’s the same. Think about it. Every form of hate stems from love.
And I am still in love with The South Bay. Two years. Many experiences. A great deal of traveling. The same love.
Maybe as a reader, you’ve all grown out of this blog. It’s been more than to years since I’ve lived Hermosa.
If you haven’t, then stay tuned. It’s coming back soon. And thank you for being patient with me.
A new perspective; a shift from the girl who never left home and was financially dependent on her mother to the financially independent, soon to be married woman. She moved away. She tried it, she liked it, she grew.
Now it’s time to write from that grown perspective.
P.S: I’ve missed you!