Nest & Heart

Leaping from my previous blog, I’d like to inform you, my beautiful and kind readers, that I have found my person.

I’m sure you really want to stay up to date on my love life, but what the hell. Why not? It should give you some insight on what’s going on and why I haven’t been posting much about my writings lately.

In my current evolution and self discovery, I have found that it is entirely healthy to speak about your previous persons because they are a part of who you are. There is no shame and you can’t negate a long stretch of time in your life. There is no redacting or even white out for that stuff. So, I will talk. Get used to it.

If you’ve been keeping up with my latest rants, you’ll know that my previous boyfriend (of nine years) and I split up in 2016. It was one of the toughest moments in my life. We had grown up together. Our families considered each other as relatives respectively. Mine still do and I have absolutely no qualms with that. We just spent way longer on something that probably should have stopped about year seven. We were great friends. Some day, we will get back to that.

Forward.

I waited a while before really getting involved with someone new. I didn’t think it would be fair to the next person if I was still upset over my break-up. About five months afterward, I started in the dating scene. I was feeling much better after the major holidays and I wanted to see what was out there. There were a couple of significant people who came in, but things just weren’t quite right, people were getting hurt, and I really didn’t want to be retracing steps. So, I pulled away for a while. I really spent time for myself and didn’t think about dating again. I eventually became bored.

I went online and ran into Patrick. A hopeless romantic with deep hooks into his inner child. Very intelligent, never serious. Someone who adores my smart assery and always tries to beat me to the punch. An adventurous spirit with whom I am totally in love with. It didn’t take long either. Both of us knew on the first date that it was serious. I even made the first move and kissed him an hour later! It has been just like breathing. Everything so natural and there never was any doubt with either of us on if we should be together. He said those three words by the fourth date. There’s no looking back now!

This bled into an interesting and eventful first year for us. We moved into a tiny apartment together. We adopted a dog together. Took so many trips together and I proposed to him a month after our first anniversary. I didn’t spare anything either. We’ve just moved into a large house where we are so excited to continue this adventure. Soon, we will be married and jauntily moving into the rest of our lives. I am so much more in love with him than that first month (I know that’s so cliche to say) and it couldn’t be more obvious. I found my happy. I finally found it.

I’ll end my update here, but I’m sure you’ll hear more about Patrick later.

Bizarre Prosperity

I don’t know how to describe the past two years, honestly. The title of this blog is all that I could come up with. It’s true, I haven’t been doing so well with the upkeep of this author blog, but that’s because my life has been evolving so dramatically since April of last year. I have grown so much as a person (as told by my previous blog). I have been dragged through the mud quite a bit, but I can tell you that my viewpoint has shifted since shedding that old skin and rising into a phoenix. Whenever I get shoved back down, I have my moment of self pity, but it is quickly over taken by thoughts of progress. Looking for every possible route or every possible outcome from that moment forward. There’s that word. Forward.

Somewhere along this road, I realized that the only person who would be holding me back in times like these, was me. I would wallow and induce episodes of self loathing. I was the one making my life miserable. And somehow, I figured it out. It dawned on me that life is honestly too short to short yourself. I want what I want because they mean something to me. I have to put in the work to get it.

About a decade ago, I had dreamed of living in a city where there was always movement. I wanted to be taken in by its current and move with it, breathe with it, thrive. I had spent my early years learning the value of everything I’m given. Everything in a much slower pace where people were complacent on staying right where they were because it never changed. But I didn’t want that. I wanted change. The curious little girl who stood in those woods behind my house and monitored plants and the earth as it changed with the seasons. I understood then that change was inevitable. Change is as inevitable as death. You can’t choose to die. You can’t choose to change. And while others are so happy with shielding their eyes and missing out on change, I craved it.

I have gone back to Kentucky several times since my move back to the South. Probably more so than any year I lived in Michigan. Each time, though it’s comforting to go back to some place that is familiar and you feel love, I don’t really feel like I belong there. Don’t get me wrong, it will always be home, but I feel somewhat like I’ve outgrown it. I worry that I may not ever feel comfortable with the idea of going back permanently. My gypsy spirit kicks into overdrive with the mere thought.

So, here I am. Living in another large city where no one here is from here. I rarely encounter Atlanta natives. Everyone has their own stories of why they are here, in this moment, and it’s all because of change. That must be why it feels more like home.