It’s been over two months since the last time I blogged.
Oops.
The only things I do consistently are eat and sleep, and even then… There’s a lot of variability. So it would check out that as much as I love One True Thing and blogging, I would fall off. It was inevitable, really. Especially because this summer was A LOT.
But one of the best things I did this summer was make myself a home. Like, a true home. (Well, almost. I didn’t buy a house.)
I moved into a one bedroom apartment — in the same building as one of my best friends. I thought it would be tough to move out of my studio. I really loved my building and my neighborhood. (Los Feliz, I love you always.) And while I had started to feel like the walls were closing in on me during this pandemic, I also loved my old apartment. She had great energy and she allowed me to do a lot of growing and healing.
But there came a point where a bitch needed a bedroom that was not also her living room and kitchen. I wanted a shower I could sit down and cry in. I wanted a space I could invite people to hang out in (lol). And so, when this apartment showed up — an apartment I’d been in before and knew I loved — I knew it truly was meant to be my home.
And it’s been my home for the past seven weeks. My haven. My sanctuary. My temple. Whatever you want to call it — it has been that for me. I know it is my home because I don’t miss my last apartment at all. I did everything I could to leave my old place in gratitude and in love. And I think I succeeded.
And my love and gratitude for this place lives with me here as well.
Maybe I’ll share more soon about all the ways I’ve made this place mine. (I do floral arrangements now!) But for now, it is enough to share: I made myself a home. And I love it.