Time Difference
My circadian rhythm is still set to East Coast time. Around 8pm at night, I look like the Sleepy dwarf in Snow White. I love having an extra three hours of daylight, which I think about every time I text my mom. But, I must admit that I feel tired all the time now. So, that means I must perform a reset. I am going to go to sleep early tonight and wake early, for at least two days in a row. Someone needs to tell my body that we're not in a John Denver song anymore. 'Country Roads' is far away and I refuse to take melatonin.
I don't have an addictive personality. When I feel myself using something too much, or, even worse, depending on it -- I will see it as the plague, and strategize how I will go without it. Melatonin was becoming a crutch for me in many ways. A few months ago, I had a hard time falling asleep without it. And on top of that, I loved the drowsy feeling. There's nothing like being 5% checked out when your daughters are arguing about setting powder.
Good thing the store is walking distance and not a drive away. When you can drive to something -- it's so darn convenient, that you just might drive to your detriment and not even realize it. For instance, you would go through a drive-through and get a Big Mac with extra sauce and extra lettuce -- my order. But, would you walk to it? Probably not. So, having that buffer space between my sleep aid and our apartment was just what I needed to ween myself off.
My appetite has adjusted perfectly -- no surprise. My trusty ol' gut is no different than Winnie the Pooh. When you're a foodie, you can fall into a new time zone effortlessly. I am hungry at 9am -- which feels like 6am in my mind. Ordinarily, I would never be hungry at 6am. However, it's like my tummy just knew, "This is when we eat here and that's okay." The food here is delicious.
And there's a place call The Donut Bar that I have been avoiding.
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I will try it one of these days. Maybe a reward for going to the gym twice in a day? I get donut-guilt. There's zero health benefit and after it's gone -- I'm still hungry! It's highway robbery. I have all the calories and not even a token of appetite curb in my stomach. I can find the benefit in eating other unhealthy food if I'll at least feel full. But, donuts evaporate and then manifest as cellulite monsters on the places you least expect. I can't. However, for you, dear reader -- I will try one. After all, the reviews, the accolades (which they have posted on their storefront) are worth a bite.
My weakness is brownies. I've never seen a brownie I didn't like. Their chocolatey, decadent, and full of textures that make me woosah instantly. It's filling too. One brownie and a coffee will set me until lunch. Which is why I don't buy them. Life hack: don't buy your favorite junk food anything. Cabinet snacks must be healthy because it's the 'grab and go' food. I paid in full for this lesson, several times in my life. If you want to purchase it and you're out of the house, it's a treat. However, if the food is in your cabinet, it might as well be a crack pipe. Because convenient junk food will call your name in Spanish. Next thing you know, you have crumbs on your mouth, the bag is empty, and you throw away the evidence in a random trashcan outside of the kitchen -- not that I've done this.
Smoked Salmon?
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I am now living 2,505 miles away from everyone who knows me and all my quirks. When we landed at the San Diego airport, I made a point to talk to myself in a whisper. I would often go through major life changes in total silence — just going through the motions. However, while I was walking through the passenger boarding bridge to the destination gate, I said, “I am going to be the highest expression of myself.” I had to hear the words reverberate out loud. It took so much planning, moving, and money to make this move happen. And now, it’s a story told. When putting in my address for basic forms or delivery service, I casually type the street name and zip code, as if I was always here. In some way, I think I was.
I liken this move to the experience of becoming a parent. You wait nine long months to meet your bundle. So, by the time you hear your child call you mommy or daddy, it feels natural — your countenance agrees like, yes, that’s who I am.
I daydreamed of palm trees and cool cafes while curled up on my oversized sectional in Virginia. There’s a zing in the air here. I can’t quite put my finger on it. But, the carefree nature of people and professionalism makes me smile. You’ll see a businessman with colorful socks and flip-flops having a casual conversation with a female colleague who mirrors his style. And the best part is, everyone is a “transplant” — a new term. On the West Coast, they call people who weren’t born here transplants, and I love it. Meeting someone who was actually born in San Diego is like going to Mars and seeing a Martian. You know they must be there, but meeting them is extra special. They know the lay of the land and all the best places that are Instagram-worthy.
The past 9 days can be defined by one word: Amazon. Did I tell you that Amazon is my best friend? He knows what I like, suggests things I need, and brings me my packages within two days. We completely started over in this new apartment. Why? Because what’s a fresh start with old dishes? I wanted to feel completely brand new. No reminders of anything connected to 'once upon a time'. Chapter 2024 is all about newness and reinvention.
Our apartment complex is such that your self-esteem immediately improves when you walk the floors and use the amenities. It doesn’t take more than a few days to hear yourself say, "Yeah, I deserve a hot jacuzzi after a long day. Of course, the mail room should shine a blue light on the package that's mine so there’s no confusion. What would I do without a 2,000-square-foot lounge or state-of-the-art 24-hour gym?" It’s surreal. And full disclosure, it makes me want to cry. Happy tears. Every day.
The sun comes up on the left side of my bedroom window.
I found that the architecture in most buildings here includes wall-sized windows and it is a feast for the eyes. Oh, how thankful I am for this view… this life. Even when I am doing nothing, I remind myself that just being here is an answered prayer.
My children are adjusting well. Every day they learn how much more independence they have here and it’s a treat to witness. Currently, I am at the Modern Times cafe, waiting for my youngest daughter, Mila, to meet with me and get some schoolwork done. In suburbia, I would never ask her to walk 15 minutes to meet me anywhere. Mainly because I am a proud 'hovercrafting parent'. But, in the city, youth independence is normal and gives them the chance to practice navigation and being responsible. However, I must admit that I do track their devices to make sure I can always get to them in the event of an emergency. When will I stop tracking their locations? I plead the fifth.
The Modern Times Cafe.
I passed by this restaurant yesterday in the rain. There was a beautiful girl at her laptop in the window and funky vibes inside — from what I could see. Turns out, being lost in the rain isn’t a bad thing. I told myself, “I am going back to write at that cafe tomorrow.” And here I am at the moment. I ordered avocado toast and the cashier asked, “Would you like smoked salmon on top? It’s really good.” I must admit that I did see that option and wasn't going to get it. But, there was something about her glee that suggested it was possibly an experience.
She was right! It hit every note and I will definitely be getting this delicious meal on toast again.
Before leaving the restaurant, I used the restroom. Have you truly lived if you haven’t sat on a heated toilet seat? The answer is no. When I walked in the restroom, I noticed a large, electronic toilet to my left. When I closed the door, the toilet seat lifted up on its own. I thought that was the end of toilet tricks until I sat down. Cue the oohs and ahhs. It was a perfect body temperature warm and I realized then and there… some cafes really do have it all. Perfect views. Bangin' avocado toast with smoked salmon. And a loo fit for royalty.
We Got This
This is the face of a girl who has walked out of the jail that she built for herself.
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Sunkissed
I used to dye my hair all the time. The sweetest natural high rushed over me while mixing the ingredients together. I could feel the exhilaration creep through my pores while shaking the bottle. Because I knew I was just moments away from what felt like a rebirth. Watching the roots turn from dark brown to a different color was my way of feeling the joy of starting over. You know when you have the idea to begin a new diet? You might say, "I'll start on Monday." There's something of note regarding the demarcation of an "official restart."
Brown hair reminded me of 90's Maria. The Walkman, Ricky Lake, Backstreet Boys, baggy jeans, mini bookbags, and my dark brown hair could be locked into a 90's vault. Put away for 100 years so that people in 2095 could see the antiquated music, media, and the curly hair that belonged to a mixed girl from Virginia.
I love my brown hair. However, I identify with a sunkissed blonde. There's a glow about it that represents the light I feel inside, bursting through my darkest parts. I've dyed my hair many colors in the past. Dark blue, purple, gray, honey, black, and bleach have all had residency in my look.
In 2018, something happened to me. I became depressed. You read that right. I literally saw the world in black and white and the worst part was... I didn't know I was depressed. This poignant revelation was only confirmed in retrospect. Looking back, I can see the gradual decline in my mental health expressed in many different ways.
I was gaining weight. I was drinking alcohol every weekend, and if I wasn't working, I just wanted to sleep. The catalyst for that period was that I had to abruptly leave Los Angeles and move back to Virginia with my daughters. At the time, I was on the brink of what felt like a total breakthrough in Los Angeles. I had an incredible job, great friends, and I just bought a convertible car. Moreover, I was just six months away from getting my own apartment to welcome my children into, and then... I left it all. I flew to the Dominican Republic to pick up my daughters. They went there to spend time with their father and stepmom. However, when their stepmother died suddenly in a car accident, the visit was forced to come to an abrupt and tragic end. I am so thankful that I had the money and ability to scoop my children from unexpected devastation while their family helped put the pieces of their life together. But, it was at the cost of the bearings in my dream town.
When you're sad, you don't feel like rejuvenating yourself with hair dye, clothes, and little acts of self-care. Why? Because you can't see clothes and tinted curls in the dark. My life was overshadowed by the weight of starting from square -1. For five years I didn't do anything to change my look because I was sad. I was what they called a functioning depressive. And I masked it with humor, pretend happiness, and staying extremely busy. But, when I would lay on my pillow at night, I would cry. Laying on my pillow, I'd sob big, salty tears. I felt like I had driven my life in the wrong direction so far... that it was beyond saving.
They say it's darkest before the dawn. And my life story is a testament to that truism. Because when the sun broke through in my life, I forgot what dusk looked like. And, you know what? It wasn't moving or making more money that let the light in. Though, establishing those two things has wrapped me in the extra comfort of financial security and adventure.
What made the difference in my life was Jesus. I surrendered. I stopped worshiping the God that I created in my imagination and began to read the bible. I learned who He is and by way of spending time with Him, God showed me who I am... and why we're all here. I believe we are created to pour ourselves out in service to Him. When I discovered this truth -- I was ready to open the windows of my creative heart. I felt so brand new, refreshed, and full of hope, that I could have skipped to the store when I bought the hair dye kit, ready to sun kiss my hair again.
All The Little Things
We accumulate so many things as humans. I admire how animals can move, live, and take care of their young with just food and a few twigs to lay on. I've always thought of myself as a minimalist. However, while packing for our move to San Diego, one thing became abundantly clear. I may have very little decor and trinkets from history, but they were attached to my very heartstrings, and I didn't even know it.
A few months ago, I made a moving to-do list on Trello.com (thank you, Bonnie for introducing me to it!). Sidenote: Trello looks complicated. The first time Bonnie showed it to me on a shared screen I thought, umm no. I have enough things going on, and I don't need to see the method to my madness illustrated online, only to reveal that I am one virtual Post-it away from glitching and shutting down. I have a lot to do... all the time. That's the funny thing about being a parent and working full-time. Even when I'm bored -- that just means I'm avoiding housework. Needless to say, once I learned how to create what is called a "Board" on Trello, my thought life was changed for the better. Trello helped me discover that my plan of productivity should "live" somewhere that I can see online. This way, sometimes I can actually... *pause for suspense* not think about what I have to do. But, I digress.
On the Trello board, I listed all of the things I wasn't going to take with us and it basically went like this: If I haven't worn it in a year, and/or it doesn't fit in my suitcase -- Goodwill. Goodbye.
This was easy to type online, but painful to do in real life. Have you ever thought about something you had to do and it felt effortless in your head, then when it came time to actually act upon it, you were stricken with emotions that froze you still as a picture frame? Sadness, memories, and a silent sigh confront your salient strategy with three words... feel this moment.
Some of my belongings held free rent space in my mind of things I love. A few to mention were my mugs. I love coffee and coffee mugs even more. I collected many throughout the years and even kept the chipped ones because hey, we're all chipped somewhere.
Each one had a special memory and I couldn't just drink out of any coffee mug in the morning. No, the words on the mug were my mantra for the day. My favorites were the ones that read, "When Prayers Go Up Blessings Come Down", "Cat Mom" and a blue and white mug that had no words but looked like where the shore meets the ocean.
After all, we are made of dust and 60% water. When I drank from it, I was instantly reminded that my frequency is the sound of the ocean.
I loved the artwork of my company logo that I printed on a 3x5 foot canvas and placed on the wall behind my office desk.
As a matter of fact, when I took it off the wall, I thought to myself, this stings. I adored my typewriter. It wasn't actually a working typewriter but a prop. I loved looking at it. The keys reminded me how much stories are life's decorations.
It's how we see the beauty in the past and future. How we define our present and visualize hope. It's all a story.
These little things had immense sentimental value to me. I wouldn't dare sell them and haggle over prices. No one could afford them. The mugs would be a million dollars each. My logo? Easily ten times more. That's why I took them to Goodwill. Because when something is priceless, the next acceptable currency is appreciation. I hope the people who obtain these things love them the way I did.
My Midlothian home is now just a story. Holidays and birthdays, and dinner table laughter. All swirling around in a time capsule called 'remember that one time?'
I decided not to bring most of my things because I am pouring new wine into new wineskins. I will always remember the little things I loved about my home in Midlothian. However, I have learned that there are some stages that must be shed and others that need only mindful upkeep. The trinkets in my home were like a caterpillar's cocoon. They helped me feel myself in this lovely community. And now, I must let the cocoon dry up and become a part of the earth.
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Walking around this empty home feels so surreal. Almost like if you got to walk past yourself in kindergarten or on graduation day. Existing in two different worlds is such a special feeling. Because it means that you're growing. It's like climbing on a ladder. At one point, your feet will be touching both where you were and where you're going.
The wonderful thing is that we are growing as a family together. My daughters and I have lived in so many places. We've slept on a two-seater couch during a brief period of homelessness. We moved to Ohio and shared a bed in the home of a distant friend. We rented a studio apartment with only enough room to cook and complain about our limited space. We moved to a haunted one-bedroom apartment and survived the spookiest events, which forced me to tap into my inner man -- turns out he wasn't there. So many experiences, as I navigated being their protector and provider.
One thing that is as true today as it was then, wherever we are together... is home.
Next Stop: San Diego
