cold in california

Imma be real from the jump: no gifs & no songs - a new era

I regret not studying abroad. It’s probably the only regret I have in life and this is coming from someone who has been in abusive relationships. Not that I’m jumping for joy about those. But not studying abroad feels like I really let myself down. My dad and I used to talk about driving cross country and then life happened and it just never happened. I lived in North Carolina for 6 years - 4 years of college so essentially living in a bubble and then 2 years, which were really spectacular actually. I’m not wearing rose colored glasses - they were spectacular. I did things that I never have done again like perform stand up comedy or lay in bed with my boyfriend & my best friend and laugh about life or go on a cruise with my neighbors who were essentially strangers. I actually forgot about those things until I started typing. I always attribute it to being in my early 20s but perhaps not. I moved back home, mentally ill as fuck, with a diagnosis that didn’t make any sense and then got my life on track. And other than (verbally) opening my legs online in a blog, the adventures haven’t gone further than that.

Since 2023, I’ve been yearning to go to Arizona but it’s not practical. Nothing I want to do is practical. Nothing I want to do makes sense for my long term financial or professional goals. And so other than those 6 years in North Carolina, I’ve lived in the same county my whole life.

Sometimes I love it. It feels like home is in every inch of everything. No matter where I go. I was talking to a random woman the other day. We graduated from the same high school 10 years apart. We had some of the same teachers. Some of the same teachers that my teenage clients have now. It feels like I’m in a vortex and not the one in Sedona.

I’m going to England in March for a wedding. I’m not excited. Which begs the question, why go? Obligation, love, practicality. I’m not not excited. I know with 100% certainty I’ll enjoy myself and be sad to leave my family when I return to the US.

I really wonder who I would be if I travelled abroad. If I told anyone that I did want to do a semester at sea. If I didn’t tell myself, it was totally impractical and don’t even bother mentioning it. It didn’t feel like a secret or something I was holding onto. It felt kind of like asking my parents for a Ferrari, just like silly. You know, like…I’m here shrugging my shoulders because it’s one of those things you shrug your shoulders at.

I remember telling my freshman year roommate (and eventual best friend) that I didn’t want to study abroad and she agreed. Just like that, it was written in stone that I just wouldn’t do it.

I recently reached out to a long time friend. I’ve known her since I was 9. She moved to Miami. A 2 hour flight. I’ve already figured I can visit on a weekend trip. It was such a simple decision. I have the funds, the time, the privilege to do things like that. And yet the idea of me there, permanently, seems impossible. Away from the 106 square miles. I don’t know how to leave and yet, I think I have to.

My friend in Miami said, why don’t you just move to Arizona for a year? And I swear, I never even considered that it could be short term. It was like a light bulb went off. A light bulb of possibility. As I sit with it though, I know that wherever I go (if I ever go), it won’t be a year. It’ll be my new life.

As a therapist, as a person with manic depression, as a human being, I’m well versed in escapism. Dreaming of a new reality. If I left, I would do it though. I would have a split level home with a wraparound porch, open a private practice, hike & write on the weekends. Hunker down for the summer haboobs.

When I left for North Carolina, I remember the general air around me being doubtful, unsure if I could figure it out without my family especially as I spent the entirety of high school being depressed. I, for sure, was weird and out of place and drank way too much. But I made so many friends. Not just at school but in AA, in the city, at my internships. I cringe at how long it took me to figure some things out but I have to give myself some credit, I was a Black girl who grew up around White people, went through my entire schooling with White people, with different bodies, different lived experiences. And not only that. I didn’t know how to connect with other Black people. My whole life called an Oreo. Told you don’t belong here. You are not one of us.

Another therapist (White) told me once that they admired how I was able to code switch (it seems cringe, inappropriate, weird for someone to say that but it was honestly fine). It’s not until now that I’m realizing I learned code switching as a way to survive. I mean, I suppose that’s why code switching even became a thing because We had to fit into Their society. For me, though, it felt like I never fit into any society. The only place I fit was with my brothers and my parents. But still I went and I figured it out 100s of miles from home.

Anyway my brothers are married with kids. I cry everyday because my parents will die (not exaggerating. I don’t know how people live without those who brought them into this world). And it’s starting to, again, feel like I don’t quite fit in anywhere. Not an Oreo but a time traveler who decided being able to move in any direction in time & space, just stopped one day.

I’m not sure. Maybe when you’re 32, everything seems like wasted time. Time feels like it’s running out. But also like there’s so much time. And you wonder if you’ll waste the rest of the time that’s left or if you’ll finally figure out why they say, life is meant for the living. I’ve already hung paintings and shelves so I’m leaning towards continuing to roam these 106 square miles.

Or maybe when you’re living through a genocide, an authoritarian (moving towards totalitarian) society, watching people die on social media - being practical just seems to matter less and less. In fact, being practical seems completely impractically.

Might as well be free while I can in the “land of the free”.

Never forget ACAB. Fuck ICE. Human rights are not negotiable.