A string of experiences

I’m typing from my parents whirlpool tub (what’s become a weekly ritual, thanks mom & dad) with raisin-ed hands, undereye mask on and Rick Rubin’s “the creative act” sitting next to me in hopes to conjure some creative spark and unlock the years-long writers block…

Rewind.

This past mid-December I sat conflicted. A large part of me drained from grief after grief of the last few years and a much smaller part of me inspired to make a change or two and muster up some hope for the new year.

It had been years since I had blogged and in the meantime I had an on again off again relationship with social media.

Having moved from away from what I made my home in Georgia, I felt grown up and disconnected from myself all at the same time. My young adult self moved away from everything and everyone I knew, became so extremely uncomfortable and established a successful life.

Years later, enter pandemic.

I had to make some choices and eventually I knew that the right choice was leaving.

The right choice was home.

Yet, coming back to an all too familiar place, the place where my childhood resided, it felt bizarre.

Enter more grief.

This change has not been easy.

But I’m living life at a slower pace and healing from things I thought would be the same forever.

I’m grateful to be much more at peace with myself than pre-Georgia me.

Social media sometimes made me feel like I was at two places at once. It’s like I couldn’t let go of some things because I would find myself reminiscing on a place (and version of myself) that no longer existed.

Social media also became a rabbit hole I would spiral down in hopes to turn off and numb.

And with too much scrolling, doomsday and conspiracy would show up to play.

Sure, I made excuses for myself that it was my space to seek fellow creatives and share good news contrary to the algorithms agenda,

but last December I asked myself,

at what cost?

So the tiny spark of inspiration got the best of me and I revived my blog space and told myself I would set aside time to write a blog a week.

Attainable, right?

And I did.

But my inner critic got the best of me and I never posted them.

To this day they sit in my drafted notes along with my health goals, grocery list and notes from a professional development course.

Well, here we are and end of February I’m finally following my gut.

I woke up scrolling Instagram this morning and remembered the question I came across in December

“…at what cost?”

So I deleted the apps.

I put on my workout shoes and went to the gym, I got into my body.

I visited with a friend at the coffee shop and I interacted with humans (and puppies) I didn’t know. I extroverted for the first time in what feels like years. GO ME.

I went to trader joes and bought colorful food to fuel my body this week.

I spent time in the sun.

I sang and danced in my car.

I reflected on the good things.

YAY.

And I wrote this silly little blog and refuse to let it sit in my drafts even if its only purpose is to post my silly little bathtub thoughts…

… but because I am who I am and I just can’t leave it at that, I will leave you with this.

A string of experiences:

If you already know me, and you follow(ed) my currently deleted social apps, then you know my car was broken into.

Yes. My vehicle was broken into 2 times in 5 months time.

I have been personally victimized by the Hyundai-Kia tik-tok trend break ins and at the beginning of the month when it happened the 2nd time I broke down and decided it was not wise to keep my at-risk-vehicle.

I owed $100 on my loan, paid it off, owned the car for a whopping 4 hours before purchasing another vehicle.

It. Was. SAD.

But, I believe with nearly all experiences in life, there is some good with the bad. (Emphasis on *nearly all)

That car reminded me of all things Georgia.

All things old. It was hard to let go. I felt a little stuck.

Also that car was a piece of shit. Lol.

The collision repair center that fixed my car treated me like royalty. They were UNUSUALLY kind. And reassuring. And they did a GREAT job (all compared to the place I had taken it to before) and they redeemed a terrible experience for me (shout out to caliber collision repair!!)

And I met the sweetest salesmen I have ever met at the place where I purchased my new vehicle (shoutout to you, Guy!!)

(no, like, his name is actually Guy)

And, my current car is an upgrade from what I was driving before (and NOT a Hyundai or Kia *praise*)

There are little reminders along the way that the story is good and I can trust the narrative of goodness.

And I hope you can, too.

Take care and talk soon,

L