This is my home for the month.

This is my home for the month.

When I found this spot on Airbnb, I felt it clunk in my body.
This is it.

But I hesitated.
This spot is not in the “hip” parts of town. It’s not where literally every single person recommended I stay.
It’s 3 bedrooms (I don’t need that).
It’s not as objectively nice as some of the other places.

There were a lot of logical things telling me, no no, that can’t be right.

But my gut stayed on it steady.

And so I followed it.
I even fought for it when I almost lost it to another reservation.
It felt good.
Right.
True.
Steady.

—
And,
Now I’m here.
And the area is… meh.
And the not-as-nice is noticed.
And the 3 bedrooms is excessive.
And when I traveled to the hip part of town the other day I felt this familiar whine inside of myself “this is so much prettier. Why aren’t I staying here?”

And I was uncomfortable here.

And then the other day, I walked back to that fancy neighborhood and arrived at a beautiful restaurant and it was just all wrong. Everything inside of me told me to go. So I did.

And I came back to this 3 bedroom house in this so-so neighborhood confused and frustrated.

Am I supposed to be here?
Why did I choose this spot?
It felt so right to come here, so what’s going on now?

I felt that familiar experience that if I’m uncomfortable that must mean I made a mistake. Or that somehow this discomfort is punishment for doing the wrong thing.

Or really that,
If it’s True or right that must mean it’s going to be magical and happy and perfect.

But actually, that’s not what’s happening here.
And

I knew it.
I didn’t come to Mexico under some fantasy.
In fact, I have been called to move to Mexico for like 2 years. And more tangibly planning to go for about 7 months.
But I couldn’t move until now
BECAUSE of the fantasy I was still holding.
I would envision myself in Mexico and everything was sparkly and perfect and

Not

Real.

And so I stayed.
I stayed in Truckee at my family’s house,
Despite what my ego said.
Because I knew,
That that fantasy was going to get me fucked up lol.
I knew that if I followed it to Mexico I would burn through my money and push for a life that wasn’t true.
I would lose myself again after months of finding and trusting her.

And so now,
The fantasy is gone.
And I’ve arrived and it is not fantastical.
And for a moment, I got worried that must mean something is wrong.

But it is actually so right.

I’m not here for the glam.
Do I love all the beautiful restaurants and do I want to see the beautiful parts of the city? Yes of course.
But do you know what else?
I get very easily distracted by pretty things.
And I have, historically, very easily abandoned myself just to be in the pretty.
To pretend it’s right because it looks nice.
To put all my energy into making it look nicer and better, when deep inside I am nowhere to be found.
Or I am twisting myself into a distorted version of me in order to fit into this fantasy of perfection.

So the other day,
When I walked over there and tried to have the pretty dinner,
My whole system said NO.
We don’t leave ourselves for pretty anymore.

And that is the truth.
I am not here for pretty.
I am here for real.

And I could whine all day about how this is not what I want it to be
But that’s no longer true.
This is what I want.
I just didn’t know what it would look like.