They say the best place to start is the beginning, but deciding where beginnings begin and where endings end is tricky business.
If where I'm sitting typing this today is my beginning, then my story starts in a small expensive apartment in the San Fernando Valley near Los Angeles, California. I live with my boyfriend, our four pet rats, a corn snake, and a collection of boa constrictors I keep and breed. We share our apartment with a roommate we rarely see. We have a very small kitchen with the essentials. There's a balcony complete with a couch and a gas grill overlooking the Holiday Inn across a noisy city street lined with Chinese flame trees. There's a swimming pool and lounge area in the middle of the apartment complex. The weather is almost always clear and sunny. For some people, this is paradise. I can't wait to leave.
If where I'm sitting typing this today is my beginning, then my story starts in a small expensive apartment in the San Fernando Valley near Los Angeles, California. I live with my boyfriend, our four pet rats, a corn snake, and a collection of boa constrictors I keep and breed. We share our apartment with a roommate we rarely see. We have a very small kitchen with the essentials. There's a balcony complete with a couch and a gas grill overlooking the Holiday Inn across a noisy city street lined with Chinese flame trees. There's a swimming pool and lounge area in the middle of the apartment complex. The weather is almost always clear and sunny. For some people, this is paradise. I can't wait to leave.
I spent most of my 28
years in the wild northern forests of Minnesota. I grew up with Lake Superior a
short walk from my front door and endless woods and rivers out the back. I
attended college straight out of high school knowing exactly what I wanted to
do with my life. I was going to be a park naturalist, educating the public
about the local natural wonders I was so passionate about. I attended
conferences and made connections while soaking up knowledge, writing papers and
giving presentations. I was a couple classes and an internship away from my
degree when I changed my mind and headed down a different path, one that would
change everything. I transferred schools and pursued a psychology major, art
minor. I made it one semester before being diagnosed with pseudotumor cerebri
and getting stuck in California while visiting my long distance boyfriend,
which ultimately led to me moving there where I continued school and changed my
major a second time.
I don't think I'm a
gifted individual, but I never had to try very hard to do well in school. I
excelled in a variety of subjects and was eager to learn about everything
(except math, though I finally conquered Algebra II in college with an A). My
parents always told me "try your best," but when I realized I could
keep on the honor roll with little effort, I got lazy. Had I really given it my
best I'm sure the course of my life would have played out differently, but I
don't dwell on regrets - that's no way to live. Being good at many subjects was
an asset in school (and likely the underlying reason why I didn't want college
to end), but it has proven to be my biggest hurdle outside of the classroom.
When I decided to leave parks and recreation behind I had no idea I was opening
myself to a tumultuous, overwhelming world of possibilities and directions, or
that I would end up in California (twice). When I discovered I could be good at just
about anything I put my mind to, I had trouble choosing which path to take.
This indecisiveness still plagues me today.
It was a relationship that
brought me to California where I saw the ocean for the first time, though
after visiting London in 11th grade I was no stranger to travel - I loved it.
His family was very well off, and I was soon swept away on an adventure, able
to experience things I'd never dreamed of. We traveled to Vegas and the Grand
Canyon, to Joshua Tree and Sequoia National Parks. We went fishing
on the ocean, which I quickly learned was far different than any fishing I'd
done before. I had no idea until later just how much new perspective on the
world I received during this time, after spending my life in a tiny town in the
woods, more than 100 miles from a city. When I moved in with him and his family
in 2008 I began honing my art skills, taking commissions and dealing my art at
conventions. His generous family paid for my medical care and my college
tuition as I majored in English with an emphasis on creative writing. I spent
two years living in a large house on a big hill with a backyard pool on the
edge of the San Fernando Valley, and despite all of the incredible experiences
I was so grateful for, I was depressed, and my pseudotumor relapsed largely in
part to me not taking care of myself.
The situation turned
sour as I realized a life in southern California was not the life I was meant
to live, and though I fully appreciated the financial support and wonderful
experiences, I still felt guilty and undeserving. Driving anxiety left me without a license or means of transport outside
of my boyfriend, and I felt trapped until I finally made the choice to move
back to MN. I hoped to continue my college study at the school I left before
moving, though due to financial issues I was never able to return. It would be
another year of long distance relationship struggles before I finally broke up
with my California boyfriend of five years, which still remains one of the most
difficult things I've ever done.
I finally got my license, and when I did I couldn't believe I'd been without it for so long. I spent the next
couple years living in a cabin alone with my cat and my snakes, which became a sort of therapy. I worked at the
visitor information center in the tiny town I grew up in, and as a housekeeper
at a couple lodges with cabins 10 miles down the road. I worked on art, trying
desperately to make creating things a viable income. I was spinning my
wheels. I had trouble accepting I couldn't go
back to college, and I continued to battle depression. It was my first dose of
living in the real world on my own terms, and though I had help and support
from my parents and friends and I enjoyed living on my own, things were hard
and I was indecisive on what I wanted to do.
My return to
California came about the same way as the first - a relationship. This time it
was also a rescue mission. A Midwest transplant himself, Jordan expressed an
eager desire to leave SoCal and move north. We decided that if I moved back to
California and in with him for a year, we could support each other toward a common
goal - us living together in northern Minnesota. We could
save each other. I weighed the pros and cons, and made my choice.
So here we are. It's
year two, and we're stuck. After a much needed but expensive morale boosting trip
up north this summer, we're currently broke. We plan to move next summer, or as
soon as possible. I'm not sure how we're going to do it, but we are, and I'm
ready to do whatever it takes to make that happen. I think writing this blog
will help in a big way.
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| Pincushion Mountain near Grand Marais, MN |
