If you’ve been with me for a while now, you already know that the cross-country move growing pains have been real. I’ve spent the better part of the last ten months just trying to stay afloat, attempting to right side up a life I voluntarily turned upside down. As much as I wish I could report a tectonic shift of realities, throwing roots in my new hometown has been like trying to grow wildflowers on the sidewalk: every now and then a seed will fall into the cracks and grow into something, but the blooms are rare and fleeting, and always against the odds.
The more I learn, the less I want to have any part in fast fashion. So for the last two years, I’ve been actively shifting away from filling my closet with the latest seasonal trends and instead only adding pieces I love, and as often as possible, investing in the work of other friends and makers who arrived to the slow fashion movement long before I did.
It felt good to know where my clothes were coming from and to be making intentional choices about things I wouldn’t have given a second thought in a previous lifetime… but I want to do better.
Earlier this morning, I read through the words of the person I used to be, the person I thought I was supposed to become, the person I was able to find when I drowned out the noise, and the person sitting here typing these words today.
It’s been a long and winding road to right here, right now… sitting with my fiercely loyal cat, in this little corner of my office, in a quiet corner of our lovely house, in a corner of the world I still can’t quite believe we’re living in. Some people might wish they could turn back their odometers and go a different, less tumultuous direction, but not me. I live for the road less traveled, even when it hurts.
And I won’t lie to you, it was pretty painful this year.
I did it. I left California two and a half months ago, went on the worlds most epic road trip with my small cat, got to Nashville, moved into a beautiful house that I love with the person I love, and we are loving our new hometown... says the highlight reel. Oh how I wish it was that simple.
I've been listening to Heavy by Birdtalker on repeat since the beginning of December, and it just might be my anthem for the new year. It's been a heavy year, has it not? I could so easily launch into an ugly rant about our current political climate, preach an impressive experienced-based sermon about the increasing shortcomings within our education system, and scream through a laundry list of pent up frustrations from a mountaintop after the last 365 days, but I prefer this lyric as a path forward…