Going South

We are just three weeks in and 2022 has already challenged my resolve around living up to my word of the year…courage. Which I suppose is good as it means I chose a word that will result in growth. In actual evolution of the self, or so I hope!

On Tuesday, January 3rd, 2022 I pulled out of Redmond, Oregon with my little white Subaru packed full of possessions. Everything I felt I’d need to provide for a smooth transition into life as a Californian had been carefully packed, and then, out of desperation, stuffed, into the back of my car. Getting from Redmond to Eugene proved to be a challenge as the day before our travels the valley was hit with a huge snowstorm. Thankfully, with the help of my parents I made it over the pass and to Daniel. From Eugene onward, we had little to no weather and made the first 10 hour shift in relative ease. 

The first day of driving had me feeling full of excitement for the adventure ahead, seeing this as our opportunity to create a life together somewhere new. Yet a night spent in a shady hotel along I-5, during which neither of us slept out of paranoia that our cars would be broken into and all of our stuff stolen, left me feeling very tired. For me, being tired, often coincides with a feeling of sadness. This sadness challenged the courage I had previously been leading with. 

As pine trees turned into desert sage and daytime temperatures climbed from 42 to 72 degrees Fahrenheit, I felt a clenching in my chest. I love the snow, I love winter and I love crisp mountain air. I ached at the thought of leaving that all behind, instead returning to yet another warm, desert climate. As I drove further south the tears began to roll down my cheeks. Understanding that grief is a normal – even expected – part of the moving process, I let them. 

On Wednesday afternoon Daniel and I pulled into Murrieta, California, stopping first at a storage unit to secure our valuables. We then made our way up a hill, through a seemingly welcoming neighborhood and to our first rental home showing. We’d made the trip from Oregon to California five days prior to Daniel starting his new job so as to see this specific house. We loved it right away. Unfortunately, so did about 30 other applicants. We left the showing feeling a bit discouraged and embracing the fact that we’d likely need to continue our house hunt. 

To our surprise, the Landlord called us the next day to say that she wanted to rent her home to us. There was one little snag in this offer though…she wanted us to sign a three year, binding, lease.  Having literally just moved, neither of us having started work, and with both of our families being back in Oregon, three years felt like a risky commitment. 

After a night of deliberation, weighing pros and cons, we made the difficult decision to tell her we just couldn’t make that kind of commitment at this time and that we understood if she chose to move in a different direction with other tenants. With that email, those familiar feelings of fear, anxiety and worry began to creep in for me. Over the course of the weekend I found myself thinking things like, “Did I make the right decision moving here? Was this a huge mistake?” 

It didn’t help that I caught myself in a constant state of comparison between Bend and Murrieta (a totally absurd thing to do as the two are like apples to oranges). I missed the snow of Bend and the easy access to great skiing. I missed the fresh, cool air that characterizes January in a mountain town. I missed my coffee shops. I missed my friends. And I missed my family. I was stuck in a place of finding all that was wrong with our new home, longing to return to what felt safe and comfortable. 

Daniel was not blind to this, he is always very attune to how I am feeling. While he worked to be patient, understanding and encouraging he too was moving through his own sadness and discomfort around moving, his own questioning of this decision. My low mood was draining us both. This inevitably resulted in  a “come to Jesus moment” for  us: if we were to build a life here, to have a chance of creating something beautiful, then the comparison, and the habit of looking at all that was wrong,  had to stop. Daniel and I both love Oregon and it will always hold a piece of our hearts. But, for now, we are somewhere new. We are on an adventure. It is important that I, that we, both be open to all the beauty that Southern California has to offer. 

There is always beauty, one simply has to look. 

As we lay there that night, me with tear streaked cheeks, Daniel reminded me of my word for 2022: courage. Moving takes courage. Creating a life somewhere new takes courage. Trusting that it will be alright, probably even more than alright, takes courage. 

The next morning we woke up to an email from the Landlord of that first home we’d viewed. The one we’d loved, been offered, and then had accepted letting go. In her email she acknowledged our hesitancy to commit to a multi-year lease and she agreed to an offer of renting the house to us for one year, with the hope we’d choose to stay longer. 

For me, this felt like a sign from the universe, a reassurance that we are in fact on the right path. That right now we are exactly where we are meant to be. 

The first week in a new town hasn’t been easy. I have plenty of moments of sadness, moments where I find myself missing Oregon. I am doing my best to practice courage and allow these feelings … letting myself fully feel them so as to move through them with more ease … to not let myself get stuck. 

With each day I am finding more to appreciate about our new surroundings and this phase of my life. For one, I am with Daniel. I get to see this human that I love, this man that inspires me, every single day. Two, I recognize that this change in location has me moving beyond my comfort zone, which is always conducive to growth. I have found that I love Old Town Temecula – how quaint it is, with a western vibe. We have a kind and genuine Landlord and friendly neighbors. With each day being 70 degrees and sunny I can wear all of my cute summer dresses and show off freshly painted toes. There are so many wineries to explore, set atop rolling hills upon which to watch the sunset. Beauty and opportunity are abundant, I simply have to be courageous enough to look for, and be open to, it. 

Moving has always been hard for me. I love the familiar. I crave routine. Still, whenever I have moved, I have managed to build upon and further create a more dynamic life for myself…meeting new people and engaging in new experiences. After all, if I’d left Phoenix at the time when I felt most uncomfortable, I wouldn’t have met Daniel. It has always worked out. There is no reason to believe that this move will be any different. 

So right now, my word for the year is guiding me, as I intended it to. Courage. Waking each day, grabbing my journal and coffee, and immediately asking myself, “How can I live from a place of courage today?” Right now, acting from a place of courage consists of honoring and acknowledging the challenges that this move has brought forth while not becoming stuck in the fears, worries and anxieties that have been triggered. Courage means being open and aware enough to embrace what each moment has to offer. Courage means looking for the beauty around me right now.

I am certain that I am not alone in my moving experience. I think that moving can be a source of discomfort for many. And so I ask you:

•  What emotions did a past move (or other major transition) bring up for you?
• What skills or practices helped you to navigate these emotions? 
• What did you learn about yourself in the process? 

I’d love to know. Drop a comment below.