Florida Girl

Sometimes when I write notes like the one you’re about to read, I feel weird afterwards. Like I’ve over-shared or given away a secret that will change the way people think about me.

But this is a good thing. I’m trying to worry less about what other people think so I can focus more on what’s real and true for me. And at this moment in time, this is what feels real and true. And I’m fully aware that by the time this hits your inbox, that could change. Because being human is weird. In any case, I hope you find value, entertainment, or recognition in this note.

Sending love!

I’m sitting in the car right now as we make our way back toward Florida following a 10-day trip that took us to the mountains of Tennessee, and then the city streets of Washington DC, and finally, the ocean shores of Maryland. Throughout our trip, we were constantly just ahead of Hurricane Helene, which seemed to follow us everywhere we went.

We were in the mountains hiking and enjoying the magic of nature while our families and friends were at home prepping for a storm.

We were driving further north, and our loved ones were watching the water rise all around them — EVEN THOUGH IT WASN’T A DIRECT HIT — hoping and praying that it wouldn’t come inside again. For some, it didn’t.  Others weren’t so lucky.

We left the Smokey Mountains and found out the very next day that they’d closed down the road through the park. This monster of a storm had devastated those parts of North Carolina and Tennessee with torrential downpours and catastrophic floods, as well.

By the time we’d made it to Maryland, ready to get lost in the musical performances of bands we’ve loved since we were teenagers, what was left of Helene had caught up with us. We spent a full day outside in the rain, grateful that all of the musicians were still performing and sharing their love and joy of music with us.

That night, we stood outside in the cold rain and biting wind as we waited for the last band to come out — the headliner. And eventually they did, but only for a small portion of their set. It was too miserable out for them to do any better, and all I could think was “wow, I’m choosing this miserable experience, while there are so many people who have gone through true nightmares because of this storm over the last few days.”

The next day, the sun came out, and we had another full day of music and fun. We left feeling happy and fulfilled.

Now I’m sitting in the passengers seat as Earle drives, trying to process all of this, and the other little stresses that followed me on this trip… like the problems I had to help manage with Ritual Space post-storm, the frustrated and disregulated people who were inconvenienced with these post-storm problems, and my own frustration over the fact that being a business owner doesn’t come with real vacation days.

It feels like I’ve been given an opportunity to look at my life and the impact of the choices I’ve made, while being slightly removed from all of it.

I’ve always wanted to move out of Florida. I’ve flirted with the idea so many times, but I’ve never had the guts to actually do it.

Of course, looking back, I’m grateful. After telling my mom that I was never moving back to Fort Myers (during my 5-year stint in Tampa for college), I got a job that moved me back anyway. And then I met Earle. He’s arguably the best part of my life. The most solid and consistent. Where would I be without him?

After that, it was the two of us dreaming and scheming about moving away one day. Weighing out the pros and cons, making lists of the things we would want in the places we call home, and watching YouTube videos about what it’s like to live here and there.

Then, in 2022, I was finally ready. The pandemic had created a separation between me and everything else in my life, so I just said, “fuck it.” And whether Earle was ready or not, he came along for the ride.

So we sold our house and took off for the most epic trip of our lives. The most magical three months of our lives. The biggest, boldest thing we’ve ever done in our lives. And it served.

We found ourselves in Colorado and I wanted to stay. “This is it,” I said. “This is where I want to live. Let’s not go back.”

And he agreed, but insisted that we had to go home first.

Then Hurricane Ian hit, and for a while, we got caught up in the aftermath. Before long, life started falling back into place. And so we stayed.

And yet again, I’m so glad we did, because earlier this year, Earle’s dad passed away unexpectedly. And because we stayed, we got another full year and a half of him. What a gift.

I don’t think that the fear of losing a loved one while you’re gone is a good enough reason to stay somewhere you don’t want to be. We’ll all die one day. But I am glad we got that time with him. And that we were able to be there with him in the end.

But now, here we are again. We’ve been out of Florida for 9 days, and I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to go back.

I have so much to love in Florida. Sunshine. Family. Friends. Community. A small business. Familiarity. Memories. Connections… but for some reason my soul yearns to be somewhere else.

Not because of storms, though — that’s part of it (l’m honestly kinda scared to buy a house). It’s not even about the golf courses, the cookie cutter concrete homes, the unforgiving heat waves, and the lack of real prospects. Not the fact that the only access we have to nature is in the sandy beaches and the soggy swamps. It’s not even about the politics—dear god, the politics!

I can accept all of those things. The problem is deeper than that. The resistance I feel toward Florida is HUGE. It lives in my bones, and vibrates on an energetic level.

I feel a depressive sort of feeling creeping in the closer and closer we get to home. A deep inner sadness that I like to attribute to Florida.

But sometimes I wonder if perhaps Florida is not the problem…

Maybe the problem is me. And this dream of moving out of Florida one day might just be my attempt at an escape from myself.

Like maybe if I moved away, I could reinvent myself. Become someone new. Someone I feel proud to be. Someone who doesn’t feel like she has anything to prove to anyone. Who owes nothing to no one. Someone who is completely free to be whoever she wants and do whatever she pleases.

I don’t always feel that way in my life. I feel burdened by expectations that might not even be real. I feel trapped by my own sense of responsibility to others. I feel afraid that if I don’t jump when someone says “jump,” they’ll abandon me. I’m afraid that I will end up, not just alone and unloved, but truly hated.

And maybe if I move away, I can escape these feelings. Maybe I can actually rest. Maybe I can find joy in just being me.

Or maybe I’ll recreate all of these internalized stresses in whichever new environment I land in. Who knows.

Only one way to find out!

All of this to say, I’ve gained some perspective over the last week… so often, the actions I take (or don’t take) are about making sure that other people don’t get mad at me. And my dream of moving is really a fantasy of saying to myself — “fuck what everyone else may or may not want. This is about what I want!”

That’s how I want to live my life — doing things because they’re what I want to do, not because I think they’re what other people want and expect from me. Not because they’re what I’m supposed to do or what I should do. But because I fucking WANT to!

The saddest part (I think) is that none of this is even really about anyone else. At the end of the day, it’s still about me. I just use other people as an excuse to keep myself reigned in. Because, what if I go out into the world with all of the bravery and courage that I imagine myself to have, and I get hurt?

I won’t pretend I haven’t done big bold things — especially in the last 5 years. I’m getting better at trusting myself and it’s been so good for me.

And when I’m not feeling down on myself, I can see how much better I’ve gotten at setting boundaries that help me stay true to myself. I can feel proud of myself for it; even when those boundaries do make some people mad (which has happened plenty of times by now).

The thing is, I can’t control other people. I can’t control what they think about me, how they feel about me, or whether or not they feel that their connection to me is worth it after I start to feel like I need a boundary.

But if I’m not living my life based on who and how I want to be, then what’s the point? If I keep finding myself in cycles of living and making decision to avoid upsetting others, then I’m doing something wrong. If I’m feeling so stressed-out by my own life that I want to run away, then I need to take a good hard look at how I’m making decisions and why I’m making them.

I need to stop being so afraid, and just let myself be 😪

I don’t know if I’ll ever move out of Florida, but if I can calm myself down enough to feel the difference between wanting to move because it feels right, and wanting to move because it feels like a relief, I’ll let you know.

If you found yourself in the path of the storm this time around, I hope you faired well. I hope you feel safe. I hope you are okay.

xoxo