Six years ago, we walked away from the life we had built on our own. From the family we had created. I left behind some of the people I loved most in the world, the most nurturing work environment I had ever been a part of, and the only financial stability my existence had known. It was a decision I made out of love. Hope. Fear. Regret. Guilt. Idealism. Faith. It was the most difficult decision I’ve ever had to make, and I made it against my better judgement. Our Mom asked us to move back to California, convinced that we were her only hope for salvation. After the guilt of not being able to save my Dad from his addiction, I knew we had to try to save her. I desperately wanted someone to ask me to stay, to give me a solid reason to not uproot a life that I loved. But the only people who could have convinced me to stay, were the same people who knew me well enough to know why I had to go. The universe had to intervene because it was a lesson I continuously refused to learn. It broke my heart in ways that were irreparable. It taught me things I am still learning and growing from. The two years we were gone were the darkest of my life, but they were necessary. It’s taken me a long time to realize that, to understand and accept it. As I reflect on how my life has unfolded in the last 6 years, I am overwhelmed with gratitude. When I get stressed and irritated with the chaotic grind of my current life, I forget that these are the things I wished for as I cried myself to sleep every night that I was away. I am grateful for the grind. For the chaos. For the stress. For the tears. For the laughter. For the hugs. For the unspoken words. For the trust. For the love. For my kindred spirits, old and new. I am grateful. 💗
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