So I’ve started planning, packing, sorting stuff in my apartment. Although I felt much better about deciding to go home than stay here, I am so anxiety filled. I love this town, I love walking to my favorite places, being close to the ocean, being around creativity feels alive. But when I remember that staying here means being tied to a debt for 40 months (and going home means releasing my debt in 14 months), I ease up a bit.

I know that when I  move I’ll be working hard to understand how to claim myself. I’ll be challenged by family trauma and painful family cycles. I’m slowly beginning to understand that this is a journey. A slow ass journey. I still wonder/doubt if I’ll ever feel life in me again. If I’ll ever feel purpose and find my place in this world.


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