The Beginning

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.

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.

They say it's not about the destination, it's about the journey, but the destination is the driving force - the motivation. My destination and motivation is a north woods homestead farm where we grow our own food, keep and breed animals, and live close to the cycles of nature. I haven't been this sure of what to do in life since the months leading up to my first year of college, and no matter what I end up pursuing job-wise, it will all go toward this goal. I'm realistic - having a farm is still a few years off - but it's time to start planning now. I think the motivation that results from maintaining this blogging venture is going to help make the goal a reality. I have much to learn, and much to do. This is my journey back to the north woods.

Pincushion Mountain near Grand Marais, MN