Searching for Sea Glass

Last year on this date, my husband Shea and I were a week away from setting off on our big adventure-- moving to the San Francisco Bay Area. I wrote about all the hope and possibility that lay ahead of us, and how excited we both were about the future. We were both nervous—Shea even more than I—as he had never been where we were going. I had lived here before, in the very town we were moving to. Our townhouse actually sits less than a mile from my former apartment, the little one bedroom I lived in –fifteen years ago- which seems unbelievably long ago now. Time has flown. This past year has flown. 

What we didn’t know was that once we left South Carolina, once we headed out for our adventure, everything would go wrong. I can’t even begin to explain or remember all of the little things that went awry, but the big things are burned into my memory: our corrupt moving company holding our belongings for ransom, finally giving them up only after an emotional battle and thousands more dollars of money that we had to borrow, finding out that the same moving company had kept many of our belongings including our mattresses, which left us struggling in our first weeks here on an air mattress until my first paycheck.

Then, while I was gone on my first business trip, Bear encountered a foxtail – something we knew nothing about- but once he inhaled it- cost us almost $1000 in an emergency veterinarian bill. (goodbye to the rest of the first paycheck!) Those first few weeks were horrendous, and Shea had to deal with a great deal of it alone, in a new city where he knew no one, while I was a few states away, working. Then, to top it all off, while I was on that trip, I took a tumble down a small flight of stairs, luckily breaking nothing, but the fall left me in such pain for the rest of my business trip, that I spent part of every day in the restroom in tears, and cried myself to sleep every night. This was contract work, and I refused to go to the ER because I knew no doctor would let me continue to work, and our financial situation was so perilous at that moment that I couldn’t risk being sent home. I waited to visit the ER after my trip once I got home, and came out hobbling on crutches, but relieved I had made it through and gotten paid. 

I kept waiting for the moment when we would turn the curve and our fortunes would change. I kept waiting to see the light in Shea’s eyes and know that he loved it out here as much as I always have. I kept waiting for him to find his next career direction and see the light at the end of the tunnel he has been waiting for. I kept waiting for my job situation to settle down and for me to feel I was really where I was supposed to be. The contract work dried up, and I finally found a full time position. But for the most part, for most of these things, I am still waiting. 

I have had more than a few challenging times in my life, so I know this is not the lowest point. There have been days in this last year, though, when things have felt bigger than me, bigger than us, and I have lost faith in myself. I have doubted the decision to bring us out here. Even though it was both of us deciding, it was me who started this chain of events, it was me who suggested bringing us here—all the way to the other side of the country. We both loved living in Myrtle Beach, SC, a place that held a lot of childhood nostalgia for us, and where the people that are truly family to us live. I cannot express how much we miss Aunt Marlene. We would be in her kitchen celebrating Easter with her and other family members tomorrow, and not doing that will be a hole in our hearts. I had assumed that by this time, we would be able to afford to fly back for holidays, and we are just not at that point yet. 

The truth is, we were struggling back in SC, and we are better off financially here, even if we are still struggling. It’s hard to face that, especially for Shea, who doesn’t know anyone else here, and I know he feels so disconnected from the world at times. Changing careers is so hard, and navigating through that has been more challenging than he or I could have ever imagined. 

I have wanted to write for months, to spill my soul out and share what has been going on in my mind and heart, but I haven’t been able to find the words. Working has left me drained and while I am so thankful for my job, especially now, I come home exhausted and unable to summon the creative energy to do the thing I love and honestly need to do most when I am trying to work through a hard time. I know creative people all struggle with this. We have to pay the bills, so your art-- whether it’s writing, painting, music—it becomes the thing you do on the side unless you have been lucky enough to find away to make it your livelihood. 

On the train ride home, standing in the middle of dozens of people every day, I find myself getting emotional thinking of all the time ticking away. I am not writing my novel, I haven’t even written a blog post in months. It has been overwhelming lately. I tell myself I will make the time, I will stay up late, I will carve out time on the weekends. But I can’t summon the words at exact moments. They come to me or they don’t. Lately, they haven’t. 

I wish I could say I see all these hopeful changes just around the corner for us, and that within a few weeks, we will be out of this rut, full of purpose, and without any doubts of our choices and our place in the scheme of things. I know that won’t be true- unless a winning lottery ticket finds its way to us. 

I have to keep myself focused on what we do have. I tell myself all the time that it’s like being at the beach, looking for sea glass among the broken shells. You have to look really hard to find these beautiful, cloudy blue-green pieces of glass, little gems among the wreckage of the ocean, but they are there. Right now, my pieces of sea glass are that we both have health insurance, we are both ok health-wise, Bear is healthy and happy and loves it here- as do all of the animals, we live in a great place near beautiful walking trails, I am working full time, and we can pay the bills- barely- but we can. Tomorrow and the next day and the next, we will have plenty to eat, and we have a roof over our heads. We have each other. And although things have been rough and we have struggled at times, we know and love each other more every day. Some days are harder than others. Some days are good. We laugh, a lot. 

It has become this weird little mantra for me when I am having a bad day…look for the sea glass…a way to remind myself to look for the positive things. I don’t even know if the analogy makes sense to anyone but me. 

Sometimes the pieces of sea glass are really hard to see. Tomorrow, I am promising myself I will take a few extra moments to look harder to see them, to wait for the sun to catch the colors and show them to me. I know they are there, hidden among the broken shells of my life right now. 

Here's hoping in a few months, it's not as much of a struggle to find them. 

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My Walk

Walking down this street
In a city I thought was my past
So distant but not forgotten
A part of my soul-
left here with regret wrapped up in goodbye.

And here I am
Only better this time around
Not alone, not lonely
All the pieces slowly
found their way back- connecting in some random, dreamed-up destiny.

All the ‘I nevers’ rescued
The ‘if onlys’ forgiven
The best parts of me survived the fire
Ashes scattered behind me-
lost in the wind- coloring the breezes of another sky.

Walking down this street
In a city that is now my home
Hope gleaming from the corners and rooftops…
I take it all in, savoring this short walk

that was years in the making, just waiting for me…to take the next step.

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Becoming "We"

Over the last month, I have tried so many times to write here. In the past, I have written about some of the darkest moments of my life with greater ease than dealing with the normal life stresses of the last few weeks.

My husband and I moved across the country to a place I love and have missed so much since I last lived here over 10 years ago. It is hard for me to believe that I am back here. I honestly thought I would never be more than a visitor again to the Bay Area, and as we made the long road trip to get here, I had to pinch myself just thinking about it.

We have not had the best luck since our move, in fact the move itself was a horrible experience. Things that should have panned out work wise for me just didn’t, and my husband’s job search has been so much slower than I hoped for him. What I hoped would be a huge confidence boost for him has instead seemed to help solidify some of his deepest worries.

I have been in worse straits than this, in far more financial trouble, and even worse, I was alone in dealing with it. But I have learned that being with someone only means you worry more…it’s not just me that is affected by our move, by my ideas, by my plans-- it is also affecting someone I love dearly. I hate to see him in pain, and as things have seemed to go from bad to worse, I have blamed myself for moving us out here.

But the truth was, we were already struggling before the move. This move has given us the only real hope of better careers, decent salaries, and a future with some savings and possible retirement plans. That was why both of us made this decision, something my husband has reminded me of several times since we got here. This was our decision, not just mine.

I feel like I am learning new lessons every day. First, marriage is tough. Especially as stubborn as we both are, and because we were both set in our (single) ways for some time before we got together. We have both had to make adjustments, compromise, and learn to navigate the tricky waters of being a “we”. There is not a moment that I would take back or give up, but there are tough days. I think about the fact that my husband and I know we are meant to be together, we know neither one of us is going anywhere-- we are in this for the long haul, and yet, we still fight and struggle. How do people make it if they don’t have that foundation? In so many ways, I am glad I got married a little later in life. There is magic in finding your soulmate at a young age, but there (hopefully) is some wisdom and maturity in finding that person a little later in life. I think back on snap decisions and harsh judgments I made when I was in my twenties, just how much I have changed now…for the better. I am thankful I was only dealing with my life decisions and screw ups back then, and not directly involving my life partner at that time.

Yesterday, my husband and I laughed—a lot. It was one of those days when we just enjoyed each other, despite a stressful week approaching, and the juggling act we are playing right now with paying our bills. All of that weighs on us some days more than others, but yesterday, we were just enjoying the time together. Finally, when we went to bed, Shea fell asleep and I was awake thinking about the day and how completely myself I am with him, how unbelievably silly and real I can be around him, without concern or shame. I have never had that with anyone else. It’s sad, but true. There was always a guard I kept up, or someone I was trying to be for someone else—which I was sure was better than the real me. The great thing is that Shea is equally himself, and I know that this reality we are living is tough at times, but intrinsically genuine.

Laying in bed last night, I felt a twinge of panic. Over the last year, I have had several of these episodes where I lose my bearings for a few moments, thinking of losing Shea—not having this other part of me. I have learned all too well through the loss of friends, through stories in the newspaper, and shared through friends on Facebook, that there are no promises. I realized that over the years and through relationships, I would worry about losing a boyfriend, or someone close to me, but not the way I worry now. There is this unbelievable depth in truly baring your soul and being so real with someone. I thought about how hard it would ever be for me to replicate the simplicity of that ease between us with anyone else, and how I wouldn’t want to. Despite our struggles, even though there are times when we are truly at odds, I am so thankful for what I have with Shea and I want the whole cliché of growing old together, sitting in rocking chairs on some wraparound porch together.

Finally, over the last week, we both have seen our luck turn. We both have better work prospects, interviews, and we have some hope that the tide is changing. In the scheme of things, it hasn’t taken that long. We have only been here a few months, but it has seemed like a lifetime at times, waiting for the phone to ring. Things aren’t perfect yet, and a lot of what we are hoping for hasn’t materialized, but there has just been a shift in the way we are looking at things and the way we feel.

I know we made the right decision to take this risk and move here together and make things happen.

More than anything, I know we’re in this together, all of it. Every minute-- good and bad, raw and uncensored, blissful or bleak.

I try and think about how we will look back on this time…what I want to remember. I don’t want to remember the arguments, the stress, the worry—although that’s part of it. Mostly, I want to remember that this time was when we really pulled together and learned what being “we” and “us” meant. After the wedding, the flowers, the vows, almost two years of marriage, all the adjustments and learning, that THIS was when we knew that we could make it through anything life handed us.

I hope we will also remember it as the time just before everything clicked into place and the choices we made all made sense.

But, I’ll have to get back to you on that last part…or rather, we will.

~~

The beautiful papercut art featured in this post is by artist Joe Bagley. Visit his etsy shop by clicking here.

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Arrivals and Departures

I feel as though I have been on so many journeys in the past few years. The journey to find myself again and stand on my own two feet. The journey in meeting and dating my future husband, and then getting married, something I had given up on happening. Then, the journey into marriage, with all its beauty, pitfalls, daily struggles, and happy surprises. Those were more journeys in hindsight…I can look back and see I was on a path, on a journey. But heading into each of those periods in my life, it seemed just like the next day or week, not necessarily life changing events or plans.

However, as we headed into our move to California, I knew ahead of time that this was going to be a journey. This was an undertaking of big plans, unknown next steps, and plenty of risk. I defined this journey with a mix of hope, excitement, and trepidation. My husband felt the same way, with a lot more fear mixed in for him, as he set out to a place he had never been and knowing only one other person in our destination city. He is changing careers, and is still in transition as to what he wants to do. The level of uncertainty for him is daunting, I know.

But, I had been down this road before, and with such amazing results. I have been so positive about the whole process in spite of some initial setbacks in our plans. Little did I know, those setbacks were just the beginning.

As we scrambled to leave our home in South Carolina on an aggressive time schedule we had created in the hopes of saving money, little things started happening. An unexpected bill would pop up, eating away at our already tight funds saved for the move. After several moving companies couldn’t meet our tight deadline, we realized we hadn’t budgeted enough for the movers and had to pull more money from one budget to another.

My work schedule suddenly got crazy, with me hosting live web events for a client that required me to be a in a quiet environment with dependable internet. We both felt it was too uncertain to plan to host the events from the road, so we delayed our departure a few days. I had to be in California by a certain date to leave for an event I was contracted to manage. The timetable got more squeezed and the plans for driving only 8 hours a day were out the window. We knew we were looking at long days on the road to make up for lost time.

We got through packing our belongings, but it was stressful and our tempers were short. I was worried about so many things, my husband was understandably scared. It was becoming so real so fast. We were also leaving family members behind that had only been a ten minute drive away, and now would be a whole country apart from us. We both cried as we wrapped our things in newsprint.

Finally, thankfully, the movers arrived. We had both slept about two hours the night before, and were just relieved that the day was here. The relief was short lived. Once the truck was loaded completely, the back door closed and locked, the driver walked over to my husband and doubled the amount we owed for the move. I was at the vet with our cats, getting them shots required for air travel, as my husband feverishly texted me in a panic. We were stuck. We had a deadline to be in California, the movers were demanding more money on the spot. Somehow, Shea was able to diffuse the initial situation. We could not give them any more money at that moment. We would have to somehow figure out the rest. Our hope was that we could speak with the initial contact from the movers about the amount. Either way, they had our stuff, and weren’t releasing it without more money. We had to leave the next day to head out on the road for our own drive across the country.

Once we finally got on the road, we were so exhausted that the progress we were making was not enough to get us to the west coast on time. In the following days, we spent 12 or more hours driving each day, calling the movers from hotels across the country, trying to find some middle ground. What we found was that we were dealing with crooks. I have read stories like this before about the nightmare situations people have found themselves in with moving companies that are corrupt. Realizing we were right in the middle of that nightmare was honestly terrifying. They had all of our possessions, and were basically now holding them for ransom. Our already tight budget was impossibly stretched.

Two days after we arrived in our new home, paid our first month’s rent, and inflated the air mattress, I had to leave. I was headed to Las Vegas for work for a week, leaving my stressed husband behind to face a new city, a new life, and corrupt movers alone. The weight I felt leaving him was unbearable. But we had no choice.

Then, on the third night of working in Las Vegas, while holding a microphone and making an announcement to a crowd of 300+ people, I misstepped and tumbled down a small flight of steps. Marble steps. Immediately after falling, I felt the impact of what had just happened. I hurt everywhere. I was almost certain I had broken my wrist. It turned out I was just severely bruised and sprained and my knees and wrists were swollen, but I was OK. Thankfully, I didn’t hit my head or break anything. I was panicked, though, worried the pain would be too much for me to keep working. And I HAD to keep working. With our finances already so strained, I couldn’t afford to leave halfway through and risk the loss of the post-show payments.

I can’t remember the last time I have dealt with so much pain. Anyone who has worked in event management knows that events like this are 18 hour days of non-stop walking, working, being on your feet. That in itself is painful and hard on your body, but add in a very recent fall and bruises and sprains and it is nearly crippling. I honestly didn’t know I had it in me to power through that pain and stress. But I did. I didn’t have a choice.

I arrived back home, limping and exhausted after a week away, and we were still in a battle with the movers. To make a long story short, we ended up getting help from a friend to piece together the moving payment we needed ASAP and meeting a ridiculous ransom deadline. Our things arrived yesterday, finally. And in one final note of the move from hell…our mattresses were not on the truck. We had two mattresses- the king one for our bed, and the queen one for the guest bed- both gone. Poof. When I questioned our delivery person, he let us know that we couldn’t file a claim because neither mattress was listed in the inventory (of course). We were billed for two mattress boxes and that showed on our invoice, but it was no matter. They were gone and we were screwed.

Honestly, at that point, we were so exhausted, it almost didn’t matter. Except that all we had been thinking about for several days was being able to sleep in our bed again. Sleeping on an air mattress is fine for a night or two, but a few weeks is pushing it.

I made notes about our missing items on everything I signed, and the truck drove away. (Not before I slipped inside and searched the entire truck for anything else that was ours while the movers were inside our house).

We tried to call our contact with the company who had been just horrible previously, and who also (conveniently) doesn’t have voicemail. He ignored our calls, and I am sure we will never hear from him again.

I will be filing all kinds of complaints in every place possible about this moving company, I just wanted to wait until we had our things. Now that we have (most of) our possessions, I am on it. But, I feel like we have been robbed, violated, and just taken advantage of. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone—except the same people who put us through it.

Worst of all, I began to wonder if we had made a mistake. When I moved out to California in 1998, everything popped into place. My finances were so tight, but everything just clicked. Every time something else worked out, I took it as a sign that I was making the right decision. This time, so many years later, I felt like I had launched us into some nightmare episode of the Twilight Zone. I became afraid to look to the next day, when every single thing seemed to be going wrong.

It’s amazing the difference a day can make. We both woke up this morning in such a better place. First, we have a dear friend who helped us—saved us—and we realize the luck and beauty in that. Having most of our belongings back has also helped immensely. I set up the den last night and turned on the TV (something that helped heal my husband very quickly), and we looked around and felt a little more at home. We LOVE where our new place is, we can walk to trails, the dog park, and the beautiful little downtown area here. I couldn’t have picked a better location.

I also woke up to several emails with some excellent consulting prospects that could happen so quickly and aid our finances so quickly. And I LOVE watching my husband search for jobs in a sea of opportunity, almost overwhelmed at all the directions he could take. In a few weeks, things will be so much better.

The best thing is that today we were able to laugh. The laughter we share is one of my favorite things about our marriage. In some of the toughest times, we have been able to step back and realize that we have what is important—each other. That doesn’t mean that we haven’t spent some days in the last few weeks very stressed and often sharing harsh words and tense moments. But, we have bounced back in the face of non-stop tension and are thankful we have the couch to sleep on instead of the ever-leaking air mattress.

Today, I was also able to relax, knowing that what has happened isn’t foreshadowing our future, it is just life. Right now, so many friends I know are going through so much. Several friends are facing illnesses that are so serious and painful, and watching their daily battles (and strength) humbles me. Other friends are going through their own financial struggles, looking for jobs, worrying about losing their homes. As a friend said to me today: life is just so hard sometimes. It is. Harder than it should be, and at times, so unbelievably unfair.

Tonight, at least, I am going to bed feeling that tomorrow is a new start, and that life is good. Not perfect, not easy, but good. This weekend, I will take my husband to see the Golden Gate Bridge, and help him begin to see all the beautiful things I love in this area. We will take Bear to a dog beach, we will walk around the city, we will discover new places, and of this I am quite sure…we will laugh.

More than ever, I am so thankful for that.

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Away We Go

For almost two years now, my husband and I have lived in a place we love-- a place we both grew up visiting for sun-drenched summer family vacations. We were only acquaintances then, and part of the love of living here was our separate memories brought together to make new ones—to make a new life here together.

Unfortunately, in a city that survives mostly upon the mercy of tourists and busy summer seasons, the job market has been tough—honestly impossible. I have watched my husband struggle after 18 years in a very successful career, as he tried to navigate starting a new career path in a city that has been less than forgiving. I was fortunate to have consulting work that kept us afloat, but as I tried to add on to that in my own field, I found the same responses as my husband. Nothing. Worse than nothing. Rejection.

I have written before about my love for the San Francisco Bay Area, and part of that love was due to the career success I found there. To me, San Francisco will always be this magical place where you can reinvent yourself and take chances and find your strengths. It was that way for me over a decade ago in every way.

As we began to see that our future in the Myrtle Beach area was dim, my thoughts turned to the Bay Area. Was it still possible to go out there and strike out and make a new path? After years of recovering after 9/11 and the dot com bust- the reasons I had to leave the area in the first place- was the opportunity still there?

I still had friends and contacts to network with, and as I started to send out notes and ask about the career climate, I began thinking and dreaming about living in San Francisco again. I also thought hard about my husband venturing with me to a place that I love, but also a place that he has never been, and where he knows no one. In that same train of thought, though, I remembered how amazing it was when I first arrived in the Bay Area back in 1998, still very unsure of myself and what I could accomplish. I had taken a risk, and I had no way of knowing what the outcome would be. It was the best decision I ever made as far as career decisions go. I was able to forge a path for myself that I am certain I would not have been able to anywhere else. In the land of startup millionaires and small companies that get huge overnight, there is an entrepreneurial spirit that breeds opportunity. Thinking of my husband in that atmosphere, vs the employment climate here, made me happy. I knew that this move would be good for both of us.

Shea was ready for the adventure. Although he has been understandably scared and nervous, he knew we were going to have to move somewhere. And if we were going to move, we needed to do it once, end up in the right place, and build our future there together.

So, I networked and emailed, called and skyped, and hoped and held my breath. One phone call changed everything, I had an interview. With the hope of one interview, I was able to tell recruiters and agencies that I would be in town to meet with other prospective employers. With the help of several friends, I booked a ticket, flew to San Francisco, and over the course of three days, had five interviews. My plan was to simply add to the contracting work I have now, but in a city that pays five times what I make for contracting on the east coast. This would be enough to get us out the area, and afford Shea the opportunity to find his calling, find his path, and help us concentrate more on our happiness, and our time together, instead of constantly counting pennies to cover the bills.

My very last interview, a stroke of sheer luck, was the one where I left with my heart pounding. It was almost a fluke. A recruiter had forwarded my resume to a friend, and that friend happened to see it while I was still in San Francisco. She emailed…could we meet before I left? It was totally unplanned. I went to the agency, we all clicked. It was unbelievably fortunate. Less than a week later, after I was back home at the beach, they offered me contract work, with the promise of more to come once I was local.

Shea and I gulped, exhaled, and knew it was meant to be. We gathered our courage, talked through the logistics, got out our calculators, and began to make the pieces all fit together.

So, here we are. It is April 8, 2012, and this week—in just a few days—we will be in our car, with Bear, driving through nearly a dozen states, crossing borders, heading towards our future. We are driving almost the exact route I took back in 1998, not knowing what really lay ahead of me. I was trusting my gut, and hoping I was right.

That part is much the same now, except it is both of us hoping, both of us trusting our intuition, both of us ready to take the leap, take the risk, and see what the future holds. We are both excited and nervous. We are both prepared and completely unprepared at the same time.

We found a place to live due in large part to my friend Kim, who lives in the area. She visited locations for us, gave us the heads up on sketchy neighborhoods, and remained positive and upbeat through a very frustrating search. Our new home is waiting for us in a little town about 40 minutes outside of the city. It just happens to be the same little town I lived in before. I loved it. I know my husband will, too. And in one more sign that we are making the right decision, it turns out that a college buddy of Shea’s lives in the same town. About two miles from our new home.

I cannot wait to see Shea discover all the things I love about the Bay Area for the first time. I cannot wait to take him to Santa Cruz, Half Moon Bay, Carmel, Sausalito, Napa, and all the other little areas that I remember with so much fondness. I cannot wait to see him grow to love it there as much as I do already. I cannot wait to see his career confidence come back in a way he never could have imagined after such a tough year.

I cannot wait for this adventure, this next chapter in our lives.

It may just be the best one yet. 

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Decisions, Worries, and Missing San Francisco

 

I am up tonight, struggling. Struggling to sleep, struggling to make an important decision, and struggling to understand how someone related to me can be doing horrible things that are hurtful and incredibly selfish. It frightens me.

Earlier tonight that I was scanning through San Francisco photos from my time living there, and searching out my friends from that time in my life on Facebook. It seems that when I am struggling with something, I often miss the Bay Area and try to “visit” there visually, or through my friends who still live there.

I may be romanticizing things a bit, but that was one of the happiest, most fulfilling times of my life. My only regret is that I didn’t realize how magical that time was when I was living it. Do we ever? I wonder that. Right now, I know that I am living the absolute happiest time of my life. I know that having my husband, sharing a life with him, is the fulfillment of a dream I never thought would happen. So, I do appreciate now. But, this was a dream I had given up on, so I think it is more natural that I realize what I have now, and how precious that is.

When I moved to the San Francisco area in October 1998, I had no idea what was going to happen. I had only been to San Francisco a handful of times before, and I didn’t know if I would sink or swim in a new place where I knew almost no one. Before I moved, I was living in Atlanta, Georgia, and while in San Francisco on business for my company, I found out about an opening at another company, interviewed, was hired and the new company wanted me onsite in two weeks. It was frighteningly fast, and left me no time to think. It was a blessing in that sense. I think if I had longer to think about it, I might have been too scared to go. I was so different then.

Once I was moved and working, it became evident that I had lucked into the perfect place to be at the perfect time. I was working hard, and being appreciated in a way that I never had before, in a way that I didn’t even know was possible in a workplace. I was rewarded with praise, support from upper management, and an amazing group of co-workers who made work so much fun. It was the perfect atmosphere for me, and I learned and grew so much. 

That decision in October 1998 literally made my career for me. Were it not for that decision and that position, I would not have had all of the amazing opportunities I have had since then. Sure, I have been through layoffs and work struggles. But, because of that first job in the Bay Area, I have had jobs, responsibilities, and experiences that have made me who I am…not just as a marketing professional, but as a person. I am forever grateful for that, and I know not everyone is so lucky, even when they are more than worthy through their education and work experiences.

So, I understand why I go back there in my mind when I am having inner turmoil. It is not just missing the city, I think it is also feeling comforted by those accomplishments, the appreciation, and the friendships I had there. To this day, I can email friends from that time and feel such a connection. I was so fortunate that so many people wanted me to feel welcome in a new city and a new job and went out of their way to make me feel a part of everything. I miss that. I miss them.

I have friends that mean everything to me, and for the most part, they are all scattered across the map. I am thankful for Facebook because it is so hard to keep in touch through emails and phone calls. Seeing the pictures of everyone’s growing children, sharing in birthday celebrations through status updates…I love it. I love that in that sense, we are all still connected.

I know I can’t run away from the things that are troubling me tonight. I know putting a country’s worth of distance between me and some of my family won’t really solve anything. I know that if we moved to California tomorrow, everything wouldn’t be perfect. I am just longing for a time when so many things in my life were running smoothly. I was making good money, I loved where I lived. So many of my friends were a short drive or a quick train ride away. I loved the work I did and felt appreciated. A lot of the pieces were in place. And honestly, at times and given my family history, it did help to be farther away.

My husband Shea was the only missing piece. And now that I have him, I wish I could turn back time a little and share some of those experiences with him. 

I am rereading these words and wondering if I sound crazy. 

It’s always hard, I guess. Things are never perfect. 

But, tonight, I am dreaming of the beautiful memories I have of California: My drive into work those first years when the views of the city and the Golden Gate would take my breath away, my first trip to the beaches at Inverness and the small pebbles that made up the sand, the small grocery markets with their cornucopia of beautiful produce and fresh-baked bread, my little apartment in Walnut Creek with the tall purple flowers outside my window, the quaint street in Los Altos where I spent so many Saturdays walking from shop to shop- always ending in the antique store that I loved.

Tomorrow I will wake up with the same decisions to make, the same worries, and the same struggles. I will walk outside and smell the salty air and be thankful that I can spend my lunch break with my toes in the sand if I want to. It will all be ok. But tonight, my heart is in San Francisco, and revisiting a time over a decade ago when so many things were just beginning for me, a time when I took a chance and made a sudden decision that changed everything—all for the better.

The artwork above is by Megan Nolton, view more of her beautiful work by clicking here.

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West with the Night

It always amazes me how a song can take you back to a particular time and place so immediately, even within the first verse. I hear a particular song and I am transported back to the break up with my first love, the year I started college, or a really joyous moment or event.

For me, one audio book has the same connection and feelings tied to it. It was as if it was one long song, and seeing the cover, the title, or anything about it takes me back to 1998 and my move from Atlanta, Georgia to San Francisco.

At the time, I was working in an administrative job, wondering what had become of all the promise I had when I was very young. The words teachers wrote in the pages of my yearbooks never left me. Words such as “I can’t wait to see all that you will become one day!”, and “You will go far in life.” I believed those words then-- I felt I had accomplished so much--and would continue to do the same. And then, I went to college.

I had always been an excellent student in high school, fretting over every test, every paper, and every assignment. The one place I felt confidence was in a classroom. But from the first day of college, I felt lost, adrift, and without purpose. I didn’t realize then that this feeling had more to do with breaking away from a troubled family for the first time than it did with academics. Every day for over four years, I felt I was drowning, paddling wildly, never able to get air. I finally gave up and left without getting my degree, and feeling more like a failure than I ever thought possible.

I got an entry level job right after leaving, and then some sales and administrative jobs. I was consumed with thoughts that I had let everyone down, especially myself.

And then, by chance really, I got an interview with a company in San Francisco. I didn’t dare think I would be hired, but I flew out to interview, got the job, and was told they wanted me there in two weeks. My head was spinning. I had told no one about the interview, had never mentioned a desire to move to California, and now it was happening.

My friends were cautiously supportive, but my parents were livid. They told me of all the horrible things that would happen if I left, what a terrible decision I was making. In the end, they forbade me to go. I felt shaken. It was scary, what if I was wrong?

My friend Judith, who has always been like family to me, believed from the first moment that this was something I should do. She had lived in San Francisco years before, and she told me of all the beauty and opportunity there, and all the things she saw for me. She never wavered in her belief that this was the right decision. She helped me realize that this was what I wanted to do-- I wanted more than anything to go.

I stayed at her house the night before I left. And the next morning, as I pulled out of her driveway, I saw her waving good-bye to me in my rear view mirror. I felt as if she was pushing my boat away from the dock, sending me out smoothly into this new adventure.

She had given me a gift before I left, a collection of some of her favorite books on tape. I don’t remember any of the other titles, but West with the Night by Beryl Markham has always stayed with me. This was a time when I still had a cassette tape player in my car, and there were 6 tapes, with nine hours of play time. The narrator’s voice was so ideal for the words--easing me into the first leg of my journey. The story itself-- of an independent woman taking on adventure and succeeding-- it was all so perfect. And in a way, it was the voice of my friend-- rooting for me, encouraging me, reminding me that I was on the right path.

To this day, if I see the green cover of that book, I am transported back to my little Honda, seeing the landscape change through my windshield. Each day that I got farther away from Atlanta, I was more enamored with the scenery—the flat, dry land of Texas, the jagged-edged mountains of New Mexico, the fluorescent-colored sunsets of Arizona. I knew that I had made the right decision. Whatever was before me, even if it was a mistake, I knew I was doing the right thing in that moment.

It ended up being the best decision I have ever made. The job I took there was, and still is, one of my most magical career experiences. I worked with amazingly talented, witty, and giving people, many of whom I still count as friends today. I began building a real career in that position, and felt liked and respected as I never had before. I believed I had purpose, and finally a connection with the words my teachers had written so long ago.

I know I would not have been able to see the opportunity for what it was had my friend not painted a picture for me. I am certain I could not have taken that risk without her support. I will always be thankful for that, and for the comforting words of West with the Night that carried me to my new home and my new life.

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The Suitcase

Everyone experiences heartbreak. I can't say mine is worse or less painful than any other, I only know how it affects me. And last year, I experienced the worst heartbreak of my life. To make a long, complicated story as short as possible: I fell in love with a man I had known for two years, a dear friend, who lived and worked in San Francisco. We had talked and written and become so close during that two years that being together felt more like the next step than a risky venture. We met in person, were mad for each other from moment one, and after a few months, we decided I would move to San Francisco. We looked at places to live, made plans for a life together, and were both giddy at the thoughts of it all. And then, in the most cruel way imaginable, I found out he had been living with another woman the entire time we made all these plans, the entire time we had written to each other as friends, the entire time we were seeing each other.

After I found out, he abruptly cut off all communication with me, became someone I instantly did not know, and never, ever showed a flicker of remorse or sorrow. I fell apart in ways I am embarrassed to think of now. I completely lost my footing and my confidence.

A great deal of my sorrow was just over the fact that one person could do such a thing to another. Especially to someone who had shown them only kindness and love. And WHY? Why had he drawn me into his life, made these plans, while LIVING with someone? How could I be so stupid? What signs had I missed? Why would someone treat me this way?

I needed answers, and never got them. I wanted to understand how this could happen, but there was no explanation.

For almost a year now, I have felt like someone had pushed me off of a cliff, and I was continuously falling, falling...dreading the impact at the bottom, but never hitting it. Just staying in this never ending, horrible free fall, waiting for it to be over.

When I came home from that trip, my last trip to see him, I put my suitcase in my extra bedroom and ignored it. I felt that if I opened it, the pain would be too much to bear. Seeing the things I had packed for what I thought would be a wonderful, special trip. The things I bought while I was there, before it all came apart. I couldn't bear it. And day after day, I let the suitcase sit there, haunting me.

I replaced all the toiletries, my curling iron, and an electric toothbrush just so I wouldn't have to open it. Weeks went by and then months, until I was in another season, and didn't miss or need anything inside it.

And then, a few weeks ago, I moved to a new apartment. As I carried random boxes, lamps and other items out of the spare bedroom, the suitcase stood in the corner. I realized it had been almost a year since I left it in that same spot, in that same position. My heart hurt remembering how it felt coming home that night.

I looked at this bag, and thought of just adding it to the trash pile outside. But I remembered a few things inside it that I had loved. The French shoes I had bought in San Francisco that made me feel as though I was walking on cobblestones instead of concrete. The little black and white dress that made me feel beautiful, even sexy? The journal that I had kept for years before meeting him, knowing him. I took the handle in my hand and loaded the suitcase in the back of my car.

A few nights later, I finally screwed up my courage and opened it. The first thing that greeted me was the scent of the perfume I had worn, that I loved, but hadn't worn since then. I was determined not to cry, but it happened before I could think. I wept. For a moment, I thought again of just closing it and trashing everything. But I made myself keep going. I found the French shoes, the little black and white dress, my favorite bathing suit, my journal, jewelry I adore that I had almost forgotten about, clothing I feel my best in, and some writing I had done-some short stories- that are some of my most excellent pieces. I sat there with these things all around me, still in tears.

And slowly, I began to replace the things from the suitcase in my life. I wore the shoes to work, brought the perfume out of hibernation, and washed all the clothes and returned them to my closet. My necklaces, bracelets and rings returned to my mirrored jewelry box, and the writing to my desk with my other work. I performed the suitcase cleaning ritual I used to do after my business trips, vacuuming the whole suitcase, spritzing some Febreeze and returning it to my closet.

I was fine with the contents out, but the suitcase itself bothered me. I couldn't look at it without thinking of the pain of that last trip, the pain that took me a year to open. So, I tossed the suitcase in the back of my car, figuring I would happen upon a dumpster while I was out.

And then, while driving around for work, in a shopping center where I was visiting a potential client, I saw two women behind a table with containers and stacks of odd items surrounding them. A sign read DONATIONS, and listed the name of a women's shelter. I returned to my car and pulled out the suitcase and quietly added it to the stacks of donations. As I walked away, I thought of some woman, starting her life over, exiting from pain, heading somewhere new and safe. I thought of her packing things in this suitcase, beginning anew-- associating this suitcase with happiness. At least that's what I hope. It seemed to clear my head and my heart.

I also know that during the time I was in love with him, before the heartbreak, that I felt more beautiful, more amazing, more everything than I had felt in a long time. And the betrayal took that away from me for awhile. During the last year, and especially in the last six months, I have realized that I was not stupid or blind, and I was not part of the betrayal. All of the things I felt --love, excitement, happiness--were all true and real. So the way I felt because of those things- beautiful, worthy, confident--had to be true, too. The only part of the equation that was false was him. I have finally separated myself out of it all, forgiven myself, stopped punishing myself, although it seemed to take forever to get to this point.

And it's funny, I think in a way that the suitcase in my house, however hidden, was almost like he was still around. Breaking it open, taking the parts that were the best of myself out of it, and then doing something positive with it freed me. Maybe it sounds dramatic, maybe no one can understand, but it makes perfect sense to me. And it's been almost a year since I could say that about anything.

Artwork by Paul Compton, for this and more of his work, click here.

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In a Fog

There are so many days when I think longingly of Paris, but there are many days when I feel the same about San Francisco. I lived in the Bay Area for four years, and it was such an exciting time in my life and an important time in my career.

I made the decision to move out to California almost at the drop of a hat, and everyone thought I was nuts. I hadn't mentioned even considering moving there, but a job opportunity happened, and I went out for a few days to interview (without telling anyone) and they hired me, and two weeks later, I was driving cross country. The job I took ended up being such a stepping stone--a career-building decision for me. I still can't believe I took such a risk (it's not like me), but I am ever so thankful that I did.

I took for granted living in such a magical place, though. I can understand looking back, because I was focused on my career. And, I did enjoy living there and I explored and saw everything. But, I just didn't really realize how fortunate I was to live there, and really soak that in when I was there. I also thought I would always live there. And then, 9-11 happened.

The dot com bust was already beginning, but when 9-11 happened, the layoffs really started. When I finally got laid off, I was devastated, but thought somehow, I would be OK. I stayed in California for another 4 months before I was completely broke and had to come back to NC and live with my parents and recover financially. (and then moved to DC for 4 years and now back to NC!)

But, when I see certain pictures of San Francisco, or the areas I lived there, I will actually feel my stomach drop--it is almost a physical pain of missing that area... that place... that time. The air there is almost always heavy, almost damp--living by the bay does that-- but I loved it. It never got HOT there like it does here in the south and there was something sweet to me about the air.

I worked in Berkeley when I first moved there, and that was such a treat. Walking out the door every day was like an adventure. Every imaginable variety of food was available in one of 100 (or so it seemed) restaurants within walking distance of my office...and I think I tried them all. One of every type of person was also walking around, and it was all part of the crazy quilt pattern that was Berkeley.

But, most of all, you were never more than an hour's drive away from some amazing hidden gem of beauty--Half Moon Bay, Inverness, Sausalito, Capitola...and the drive to get there was breathtaking.
I think I start dreaming of other places when I am having hard days at work, or when I am just longing to wander...but even in my most content moments, I long for two places...Paris, of course, and San Francisco.

-Kim >^..^<

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