Feel My Pulse.

So you say this is human / your heartbeat versus mine / I'm in chains 'cause I'm choosing / showing love or living life. / I shouldn't have to leave where I stand / I shouldn't have to change who I am / To count as human. / Feel my pulse / With your hand on my heart / You know it beats just as hard as yours / Feel my pulse / Feel my pulse / Can't you see that I'm scarred / I'm just the same as you are so just / Feel my pulse / I wish I could reach them / And strip away what separates / It's the same air we're breathing / The same tears run down our face / So I don't have to leave where I stand / And I don't have to change who I am / To count as a human / Feel my pulse / With your hand on my heart / You know it beats just as hard as yours / Feel my pulse / Feel my pulse / Can't you see that I'm scarred / I'm just the same as you are so just / Feel my pulse

My emotions have been on a roller coaster ride this week.

It's resulted in a lot of crying. A lot of being quiet. A lot of secluding myself. A lot of Disney movies to take my mind off of things. And a lot, a lot, of reading the stories about the lives lost last weekend.

I have felt so much anger. Like, red rage. 

And ironically, I'm mad at myself for that. 

I am not that girl. I'm the girl who loves the EDM scene because of the PLUR (Peace, Love, Unity, Respect) Movement. I'm the girl who loves life, and has always felt that everyone has good in them and they just need someone to recognize it. I'm the girl who doesn't give up (on things or on people). I'm the girl who always has hope and faith on her side, and it has never failed her.

And this week I've looked in the mirror and seen a girl who is tired. Tired of crying, tired of people dying, tired of the world being so screwed up. 

I know, I know. We're supposed to be strong. We're supposed to stand united together. The community is supposed to join hands and not let this knock us. But I don't think I realized how hard that is...how absolutely, completely difficult that idea is to me right now.

I wanted to go to Orlando today. I had it all planned out. I was going to go to the memorial. I was going to try to meet up with friends I haven't seen in far too long. I was going to stand tall with the city I called home for four years.

But I couldn't. I couldn't go to the memorial, because it's right around the corner from Pulse and I don't think I'm ready to see it again. I couldn't meet up with friends, because there has been so much death over the last week and I wouldn't even know what to say to them besides, "I love you and I'm so glad you weren't in there when the attack started, and I'm sorry that we lost people." I couldn't stand tall with the city because I don't feel very tall this week.

I still feel small.

I still feel fear.

I still feel despair.

I still feel anger.

I still feel gut-wrenching nausea. 

I'm still having trouble sleeping.

I'm going to try. I'm going to try to walk with a smile and mean it. I'm going to try to stand tall and be fearless. I'm going to try to be strong for the people and city I love. I'm going to try not to blame myself for the anger that haunts me, or the sadness that overwhelms me in random moments. I'm going to allow myself to feel. Because I think that might be how we heal eventually, by allowing ourselves to wholeheartedly feel. 

And The Journey Continues: Land Down Under

Before you get any crazy ideas: no, I am (unfortunately) not relocating to Australia.

...but that doesn't mean I can't vacation there...

Ever since I can remember (sadly enough, I'm pretty sure it was when Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen came out with that ridiculous [I may or may not have been obsessed] movie Our Lips Are Sealed), I have always wanted to travel to Australia.

We're talking, dream vacation spot.

I've been fortunate in my twenty-six years to have traveled to so many different places. My family was the traveling kind growing up; I remember visiting friends in Germany--traveling to Switzerland and France along the way. I remember being nine and standing with my Dad and middle brother at the fence that encircled the Alps. We stood on our tip-toes and managed to put our heads just over the top of the rail (in hindsight: probably not the safest thing ever; sorry Mom!). The feeling of the cold gust of wind that traveled up the mountain side and blew our hair back took my breath away.

Traveling was just fun. Exciting, fun, and spontaneous. I honestly believe traveling encouraged me to branch out, to not be afraid and move to LA. Had I never had those experiences as a kid, I don't think I would have had the courage to pack up and move myself 3,000 miles away to start anew.

While living in Los Angeles, the first job I ever had was working as a front desk concierge at a boutique hotel in Beverly Hills. I met so many different guests while working there. Working in Beverly Hills, you experience an eclectic array of people coming to visit SoCal. Within the first few months of me working there, I met two wonderful couples traveling together from Australia. I really connected with the one couple; they fit the norm for Australians based upon what I had heard about them in the past--kind, generous, and down-to-earth. 

We struck up conversation every time I was at the front desk--whether it be first thing in the morning while they were on their way out to a tour, or when they came back in the evening and they'd sit to have a drink with me. They were so warm and kind--and before they left, they told me if I were ever to venture out to Australia to contact them. We've stayed in touch ever since.

Every year (since then, especially), I contemplate planning a trip Down Under. There are SO many things I would love to see and experience. The culture, for one; koalas and kangaroos are pretty high up on my list, too. The beaches, the reefs, the water. I could go on and on.

So recently an old friend who also worked at the hotel with me reached out on Facebook and let me know she would be following her dream of traveling the world for the year. She has an opportunity in New Zealand and plans to be out there for a few months. Three things kind of hit me--1. I was so envious that she was living her dream; ever since I met this girl I knew she wanted to save up and go out and travel the world. 2. How perfect would it be for me to go this year while she's there, so I can experience it with someone else? 3. I still have that couple I consider friends who might want to still show me around (even though it's 4 years after I met them to begin with and we haven't seen each other since then; I've already reached out to them and they are on board for showing us around!). 

So...what's stopping me?

...I thought about it. And then I thought about it some more. Sure, it's expensive. But money can be saved up. Sure, it's a 27 hour travel day, but traveling is in my DNA so that's not really stopping me...and then there's work, but isn't this what vacation time is for?

The last year was great--I settled down, I worked really hard and I made a life for myself. But just because I don't live in LA anymore doesn't mean I can't go on an adventure. I had kind of given up on that adventurous side of me. I left that girl in Los Angeles when I moved back to Florida over a year ago. 

My adventure isn't over. My journey is still going. So to the Adventurous Me I left in LA, I'll be picking you up at LAX (this is the goal, anyway) on October 1st at 9:25pm. Pack your bags, kid. Depending on how much money I can save, we'll either be taking flight this year or next! I'm tired of waiting. We're going to Australia!!

Memories

Timehop (or "Facebook Memories", whichever app you may or may not use) is a beautiful thing.

If you aren't familiar, it allows you to login to all of your social media sites and it compiles posts, pictures, etc. that you've posted since you've opened those accounts. For someone who has been on social media for years, there's so much to look at and reminisce over as time goes on.

It really gets me to thinking just how quickly time truly flies by. 

I recently reinstalled Timehop as I hadn't had it for a while.

The past few days, all of these photos from my time spent in Los Angeles have been popping up. And for a split second (just a second), I missed it.

The photo that popped up today was from 4 years ago--a day I will never forget. I had off from work, as did my best friend. He had grown up in LA and knew it like the back of his hand. I was still very much so a "newbie" to the city and had no idea what was in store for me. 

He met me in North Hollywood at my apartment in the valley. From there, we walked about three blocks away to The Fed, an amazing bar (the only amazing bar in NoHo, in my opinion) that immediately became our "local". I had a martini for the first time. He practically forced me to eat bruschetta (which I had always been terrified of because I have always disliked tomatoes) and I actually enjoyed it. We walked another block and a half to the Metro.

I had been on a subway once or twice in my life (both times in New York or Boston), and didn't even realize there was a subway system in LA, to be honest. He showed me how to get a Metro card, we jumped on the train and we were off to Hollywood. It blew my mind how quickly we got there! Had we taken the freeway around the mountain or the canyons through the mountain, it would have taken us an hour. Instead, we were there in 20 minutes or less.

He asked me if I had ever been to the Standard downtown (at least, I think it was the Standard). I looked at him blankly and told him I really had never been anywhere in LA. Besides the beach and the small area of Beverly Hills we worked in, I had never gone out exploring on my own.

He proceeded to take me to the hotel where we were taken to the roof top. There were luxurious planters, three pools and all of these "pods". They were water beds where you could lay while a bartender came to get your drink order. Looking up you could barely make out the stars through the lights of downtown Los Angeles's skyline. I just remember drinking around all of these other LA "locals" and realizing I was one of them. I lived here too. I wasn't a tourist this time, I actually lived here. This was my home. It was fancy and extravagant, and something I had never in a million years imagined for myself.

Afterwards, we stopped inside another hotel (I wish I remembered the name of it) with intricate paintings on the ceilings, people were wearing suits and I felt so out of place in my jeans and blouse.

We then went into another bar. The Edison. This one was unbelievable. It was in the basement of a building that used to be a private power plant. It had, what looked like, it's original architecture. The ambiance was breathtaking. It was dark, yet classy. It was filled with people our age, people just trying to find their places in this crazy city.

We hopped back on the Metro and went back to my apartment after that.

I was in awe. I was so in love with the city I had found myself in--it was everything I anticipated. My friend and I promised to do this once a week; just go out and explore the city that we lived in. Just before I moved, he told me that those were his favorite times because he, who had grown up in this life, had really taken it for granted. It was his backyard. But he felt like he got to see the city through my eyes during our weekend adventures. 

Do I miss it? Do I miss being in complete awe of the city lights and the people and the places?

Absolutely.

But after that first year, I too began to take it for granted. 

The Hollywood events and lights turned from fascination to annoyance--it meant more traffic, more tourists, more street closures.

The bars went from amazement to frustration--they were constantly crowded and the drinks were overpriced.

While I realized I fully loved this city of fascination, excitement and dreams--I also realized it wasn't home.

So yes, Timehop, I appreciate your reminders of what my life used to be. It puts a smile on my face.

And to the girl sitting here typing this today? Thank you for realizing it wasn't home (nor would it ever be). 

I feel the same happiness I did then.

Just now, it's seeing the Bay every day while driving to and from work.

It's coming home to my two beautiful Cockers who I rescued (though I fully believe they rescued me).

It's working my butt off for a job that is sometimes stressful, but other days kinda fun (and allows me to be independent).

It's being able to see my family more often and be a part of their lives.

The happiness is in my heart, in the box right next to memories of the crazy, adventurous time I spent in LA. 

Thanks for the flashback, Timehop. It's fun looking back at the naive, wide-eyed girl I was 4 years ago and the woman I've become today.

One Year.

It's been one year since I made the decision to leave Los Angeles.

I remember it like it was yesterday. My heart had stopped racing as I muddled over the idea. It wasn't the first time the idea to leave had crossed my mind, but it was the last--because I would actually follow through with it this time. I walked down the steps leading up to my apartment building after work and stared at my cell phone. If I called my mom with this, I knew there was no going back. Once she knew what was going on in my head, I would absolutely need to stick to my plan and actually make the move.

It rang just a couple of times before she picked up, her tone one of joy in hopes to cheer me up. She had been doing that a lot lately--trying to cheer me up. In the moment, I couldn't understand why I was sad. I was living in the city I had dreamed of living in since I was a kid. I was working in an office on the beach. I lived on the city line for Beverly Hills and West Hollywood. I got invited to parties and events I never thought in a million years I'd be invited to.

I was supposed to be happy.

She asked me how I was doing. I said okay. We talked about work, school. My brother was getting ready to graduate from high school--we talked about the plans for me to come home for his graduation. I decided to just kind of slip it in...

"So I've been thinking a lot about it and I think I want to come home."

There was a pause for a second. "Well, you are coming home. For Seth's graduation." I think she was trying to convince herself that I was talking about coming home for a visit as to not get her hopes up.

"No, mom. I mean, I think I want to come home. Like, leave Los Angeles."

I heard a sigh and I knew that meant tears were coming.

"Are you sure? I want you to be sure."

This was it. I still had a chance to back out of my decision. I hadn't convinced her yet, so I could still say something like: well, maybe I'll think about it for a few days... or even: no, you're right. I'm being crazy. I'm not ready to leave LA.

But I didn't. Instead, the words flew out of my mouth before I could really even process them. "I'm sure."

Then there was screaming and cheering and yelling in the background, "Scott! Sarah's coming home!" And so we planned my trip back home. As I went to sit down on the stoop just outside my apartment, I felt the hot tears fall down my cheeks. I was mad at myself.

Why are you crying? This was what you wanted!

I think in my head I felt like this journey I had worked so hard for was over--finished. I had worked so hard for something I didn't even want, and I was mad at myself. 

Flash forward to a month down the road. My Dad and I made the long trek across the country. I couldn't even speak to him hardly until we were across the Arizona border in fear that I would lose it and sob uncontrollably. 

But we made it. And just as I had unpacked my entire life into that studio apartment in Koreatown three years prior, my parents helped me unpack everything I owned back into the bedroom I grew up in.

I felt defeated. 

My Mom gently told me to take some time. I didn't need to work right away, so I should take the time to sort through everything going on in my head; she wanted me to realize that even though life didn't work out how I thought it was supposed to, I was still going to be okay.

So I did just that. My parents bought me a float for the pool for my birthday. I spent hours floating around the pool in silence reading book after book after book. I think in one day I went through four novels. The stories took my mind off of life.

And here we are today. In February, I rented a condo in St. Petersburg. I've been with my new company for nine months. I have people in my life that I genuinely care about, and who genuinely care about me. 

If you asked me a year ago today if everything was going to be alright, I would have broken down into tears and told you "no". I know today, more than ever, that everything happens for a reason; just because LA was never meant to be my forever, I can absolutely say that LA was a season in my life that taught me who I am (and who I'm not) and brought me to where I am today.

And today? I am happy. I've realized that leaving Los Angeles didn't end my journey at all, it just changed my journey's path. And this new path I'm on is literally everything I could have ever wanted, and then some. Happy one year to making one the greatest decisions I could have ever made. 

The boy in the park.

We always have to remind ourselves that there will be good days, and there will be bad. No matter where we are in our lives, we will always have a mixture of both. Of course, we hope for the good; but in the heat of the bad, we have to remind ourselves to breathe.

Yesterday was a day I felt like I was constantly reminding myself to breathe.

I woke up missing LA. This isn't the first day this has happened (and I'm certain it won't be the last), but I just woke up with the aching feeling that it was just going to be a bad day. Thanks to my handy dandy, super smart friends--I tried to avoid that feeling. I tried to shove it to the back of my head and go on with the day in hopes that it would turn around. I just kept replaying in my head why I was in LA in the first place and why I left; though both decisions felt so strongly like they were the right ones, I couldn't grasp the success I had encountered in the city. I felt like I had failed.

So no surprise, my day did not actually turn around.

In the early afternoon, I had errands to run and after I was finished--I was annoyed. I was frustrated with myself that it was now four o'clock and my day still sucked, for lack of a better word. 

So I drove to this park.

I had never been to this park before, but I knew it existed because my brother loved playing basketball there and so I knew the general area it was in and I hoped it would be empty. I just wanted to sit, breathe and think. 

As I'm sitting at a picnic table in the back of the park, I'm so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't realize a boy was walking up to me. I looked up at the last second to see him cautiously approaching; he was probably sixteen years old and he looked just as stressed out as I'm sure I did.

"You're at the park alone?" It was kind of a question but I could tell he was awkwardly trying to make conversation. I have to admit I kind of inwardly groaned. I really, really didn't want to talk to anyone. Especially some teenage kid who I wasn't really sure if he was flirting with me (you are way too young for me, stranger in the park) or just looking for someone to chat with.

"Apparently, so are you," I laughed softly and smiled while realizing that was the first time I had laughed all day.

He sat down and told me he had gotten into an argument with his dad. He told me that he had just found out that he qualified and was potentially being offered a scholarship at UCLA. He told me that he had always had this passion for Southern California and Los Angeles.

I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped. This kid was me. I remember at 17 struggling with the idea of potentially moving to California. As much as I wanted to go during school, I knew it wasn't realistic. I explained to this kid that he should focus on school first, but not to let go of his dream or passion. I told him it was hard work, but if he wanted it badly enough, he could make it work.

He asked me to tell him my story; he wanted to know everything. How I started, what it was like and why I decided to come back.

I told him everything. Sleeping on an air mattress in Koreatown to sharing a one bedroom apartment with my friend, then a two bedroom apartment in the valley all the way to a two bedroom apartment in Beverly Hills/West Hollywood. He was in awe. And honestly? So was I.

I realized in that moment that I didn't fail. I focused on what I wanted, I worked hard and I made it happen. As we separated, he thanked me. He said my advice was honest and real, and he was thankful. Beyond that, I was thankful. I had talked myself through everything that had built up that day and I let it go. I literally felt a sense of peace and relief.

Before we went our different paths, I called out to him, "You're going to be okay." He smiled and nodded before saying, "So are you."

Thank you, boy in the park. I may have helped you, but I think you might have helped me more. Funny how life works out.

The Journey: Part Two.

Dear Los Angeles,

I've watched the cursor blink for five minutes trying to figure out where to even begin. What words do I choose to begin to explain the last three years of my life?

Flashback to three years ago--I was a wide-eyed, naive girl from the east coast with so much hope, passion and joy for something I didn't even understand. I had dreams and ideas of what this city was made of; I took a flying leap into this world I had never been immersed in, but I knew my heart wanted so badly to know how it would feel.

And I loved it.

I loved every moment of it.

I will never be able to express how thankful I am for my first initial job here. I started as a guest service agent at a boutique hotel in the middle of Beverly Hills. Every job has it's fair share of stress and frustration, but this job that paid a salary I'm still not sure how I survived on brought me to life. I worked with a handful of people who became my closest friends; people who introduced me to what it meant to live in Los Angeles. I met my best friend, who encouraged me to put all of my energy into being myself and living my life freely. And so that's what I did.

I lived, I loved and I experienced absolutely everything I had always wondered about. I let people in, I made connections with people I never thought I would have. I stopped being so afraid of things I didn't understand and I embraced this epic life that I had always imagined. I took walls down that I had put up for reasons unknown to me so long ago. I broke that barrier.

And then I pushed myself. I pushed myself to find another path that would lead me to more career experience. I learned what I liked and didn't like, I made connections with friends and people that I never would have imagined. One road took me to another and somehow I found myself in the middle of Hollywood working with people I had only ever dreamt of working with.

When I moved to Los Angeles, I hoped and prayed I would belong. I wanted to find a place where I fit in; where I felt like I was contributing to something bigger than myself. Living in Florida, I had great friends and a wonderful support system with my family but something was missing and, until I moved to California, I never really understood what. It's hard to put into words what I've found, but I can assure you that I've found it.

I've realized I am strong. I've realized that I can pick myself up and move to a place where the only thing I have on my side is hope and faith. And I've realized that it works. The last three years have been some of the best years of my life. Being in California has opened my eyes not only to this life that I had always wondered about, but also to the person I am and the person I have always been. California didn't change me; California gave me the opportunity to really get to know myself and understand who I am, what I like and what I want to do.

I don't think I could have ever realized when moving here that I would become so insightful and learn so much about myself. Growing up, we're directed and motivated by our parents. We follow a blue print that has been given to us. This is not a bad thing, but we come to a point where we have to make our own decisions--and California was mine. I am so thankful to my family for supporting the last three years of my choices and the life that I have lived. I am so thankful to the people I have met in this city who have helped me learn and make decisions that have brought me to who I am today.

Leaving Los Angeles has been one of the hardest things I think I have ever decided to do. My love for this city is undeniable. My love for the friends and people who have helped me and guided me while I've been here is, also, undeniable. I will never forget any of the moments or experiences that I have had while being here.

I've always struggled with the word "home". Leaving Florida is difficult, because to me--that is "home". Coming to Los Angeles is heart-warming, because to me--this is "home". For the last three years, I am grateful to say I have had two homes. And I remind myself in these difficult moments that I will still have two homes.

This is not goodbye, Los Angeles. This is an "I'll see you later". Just as I left a piece of my heart in Florida, I'm leaving a piece here, as well. I can't wait to see you again.

Thank you for everything.

The Journey Home.

I remember when I moved here, there was a part of me hoping I would hate it.

That's such a strange goal, right? Picking up your entire life and moving somewhere new, only to hope that maybe you would hate it and you would want to turn around and go home.

But I fell in love. Los Angeles is everything I ever expected it to be. I've been amazed (more than once) by the bright lights and the extravagant parties. I stumbled upon feature films being filmed and I learned how to parallel park (I'm also officially a pro at reading parking street signs and knowing all about LA's street cleaning schedule). I could tell you how to get to the valley or when it's okay to drive on the 405 (answer: never).

When I moved to LA in the first place, so many people asked me the same question: "Why?"

I didn't really have an answer I wanted to speak out loud, but I told some of my close friends and family something along the lines of this: I never knew who I was before. I always had someone to lean on, someone to depend on or someone to fall back on. I wanted independence. I wanted to figure out who I was on my terms. I wanted to feel alive.

And I did.

I came here and I found friendships in places I never thought I would. I traveled, I experienced things I never would have I never left Florida in the first place. I went out a lot, I knew how to have a good time and maintain a full-time job simultaneously. I even worked (sort of) in the industry I had wanted to work in all along. Life. Was. Great.

Life was great until I realized some things, one of which being who I am (which was why I moved to LA to begin with).

Once I realized who I am as a person and what makes me feel happy and safe and free and alive; I realized this was no longer the place for me to be.

I have a friend who left LA probably about a year and a half ago. As she was packing up to leave (she had about three extra years here under her belt), I remember going to lunch with her and being shocked she was living this big, old city full of dreams to go back to her small town in Nebraska. She didn't explain, but she smiled and said, "Trust me. When you know, you'll know."

And now I know.

So go ahead and ask me why this time, I won't hesitate to tell you.

I miss my family; I want to reconnect with them and see them more than twice a year (without having to spend $600+ to make that happen each time). I want to go to UCF football games and be a part of the alumni association. I want to see the sunrise over the Atlantic and set over the Gulf. I want to go to Kohl's with my mom and then get lunch at Chick-fil-a one Saturday because we can. I want my family to be a part of my life.

That is who I am now. That girl inside has always been there, I think she just had to get a little bit of crazy out of her system.

So, thank you, Los Angeles. You have raised my adult-self well. I will be back to visit annually, I promise you. You will always have a very special place in my heart and I will never forget the lessons you've taught me or the people you placed in my life as I figured out who I am.

And to Florida, I've missed you more than I ever thought I would admit. I'm ready to come home now.

And just as I set a deadline to move to LA, I set one now. See you September 1st.