Well, I’m finally home from this trip…home…

It’s been a long stretch of not really knowing where to call “home.” 

In spirit, I moved to Mexico last year. 

In practice, I’ve been back and forth and all over. I miss Mexico every day I’m not there, but something else is happening.

3 weeks before my first trip to Mexico, after boldly declaring that my chapter in Los Angeles was complete, I met Ike.

We kept in touch, got to know each other deeply and built a connection that has humbled me to my core.

We communicate seamlessly, we do crazy, tantric energy work that catapults us into our highest selves, and, oh, we’re one soul split into two bodies somehow. (Not soulmates, twin flames. Look it up, it’s wild stuff.)

After my most recent trip to Mexico, I moved out of my apartment and into his…in LA. 

You may be thinking, “I thought you were done with LA.” Yeah. Me too. 

But also, moving in with him felt right. It was easy. We fit together.

Ike feels like home. And Mexico feels like home. 

I’ve been grappling with that for a year now. Trying to figure out what to say when people ask, “where do you live?” Well, I live in Mexico, and the person containing the other half of my soul lives in Los Angeles.

It’s not simple or conclusive. It doesn’t fit into a tidy box when I’m asked these questions at cocktail parties.

But maybe, that’s not how life works. We don’t really know what the fuck is going on. We just get out there and do it. Get dirty. Forge a new path where there wasn’t one because your soul demands it. 

The last year has brought the most aliveness I’ve ever felt.

I’m about to go back to Mexico. I will miss Ike. It hurts to pull apart. I’m also excited. To swim in the ocean every day. To sweat in the oppressive heat. To soak up the spirit. To grow my friendships. To keep embracing the wilderness of the unknown.

Home is where my heart is alive.

It won’t always make sense. But I FEEL IT. And that’s what matters.

Four days ago, Saturday, September 2nd, I moved the last of my belongings out of my apartment in LA and handed over the keys.

I no longer have a place of my own. Everything I own is either at my partner’s place or in my suitcase. We are on our way east, to visit our hometowns. We grew up 30 minutes apart, and recently found out we were born in the same hospital. We met last summer in LA, around the same time I realized I no longer wanted to live there.

I’ve been in the middle of this transition for a while. Last summer, I started planning a road trip through Mexico in search of the next chapter. I left on December 4th. On February 3rd, I reached Puerto Escondido in Oaxaca. I only stayed for a week, but I knew I had to come back.

When I returned to LA at the end of February - after three months of solo travel that felt like a year, seeing more places than I could wrap my head around, getting so sick I could barely drive, spending days shitting soup from random airbnbs (and once in my pants) along the 44-hour route home - I thought it would feel good to stay put, somewhere familiar.

It did not. After about 48 hours of access to hot water and normal bowel movements, it was clear that those things were less important than what I found across the border.

My partner tried to cheer me up and show me the best of LA, while every bone in my body cried for Mexico. This went on for 4 months until I could get back to Oaxaca in July. I needed to see what more than a week there would feel like. 

After emerging from another, much shorter period of extreme sickness upon arrival (here’s my post about that), life started feeling really good. I was making friends, becoming part of the community and finding more creativity and purpose. It felt like home.

I remember the first time I got in the ocean at what would become my favorite beach. The sun was setting. The warm, teal water merged with purple, pink and blue sky. As I bobbed in the waves, I thought, “Okay. I can leave my apartment in LA.” 

Less than 2 months later, here I am. I did it. I am sitting by the indoor pool at a Marriott in Provo, Utah, finally writing that travel blog all my friends wanted from that first trip to Mexico. Better late and marginally related than never…

It’s a unique, untethered moment. I am between the life I had in LA and whatever is next. I am an entirely different person. What better time to revisit the past, see my family, attend my 15-year high school reunion, and visit New York City for the first time since fleeing the misery that led me to start over and move to LA?

Another rebirth? Here I come.