Starting over…
Starting Over, Slowly
There was a point when everything in my world felt like it collapsed at once.
A bad breakup.
Work that no longer felt like it fit.
A version of myself that didn’t have the strength — or maybe the awareness — to keep holding everything together.
So I didn’t.
I checked out.
Not in a dramatic way. Just quietly. Days blurred together, and for about nine months, life felt like it was running on autopilot. I showed up where I had to, disappeared where I could, and didn’t ask myself too many questions. At the time, it felt like failure. Looking back, I think it was survival.
When Everything Falls Apart
When big things end all at once, it’s easy to blame yourself for not handling it “better.”
I told myself I should’ve been stronger. More resilient. More put together. But the truth is, sometimes you don’t rise — you pause. Sometimes you don’t fix things — you let them fall.
That season taught me that checking out isn’t always giving up. Sometimes it’s your body and mind asking for space before they know what comes next. I wasn’t healing yet. I was just resting in the wreckage, even if I didn’t have language for it at the time.
And that’s okay.
The Quiet Decision to Change
After months of feeling stuck, something small but steady shifted.
It wasn’t clarity. It wasn’t confidence. It was just a quiet knowing that staying where I was — emotionally and physically — wasn’t helping anymore.
So I made a decision that scared me: I moved to Orange County.
For some people, moving cities is no big deal. For me, it meant leaving behind family, friends, familiarity, and the comfort of being known. It meant choosing uncertainty over stagnation. Choosing discomfort over numbness.
I didn’t move because I had it all figured out. I moved because I didn’t — and I needed a new environment to become someone else, or at least meet myself again.
Starting Over Doesn’t Look Like the Movies
Starting over isn’t a dramatic montage.
It’s quiet. Awkward. Uneven.
Some days feel hopeful. Others feel lonely. Some days you’re proud of yourself for being brave. Other days you miss everything you left behind and wonder if you made a mistake.
What I’m learning is that starting over doesn’t mean erasing the past. It means carrying it with you — a little lighter, a little wiser. It means doing things scared. It means trusting that growth doesn’t always feel good while it’s happening.
If you’re in a season of change — whether by choice or circumstance — know this: you don’t need a perfect plan. You don’t need certainty. You just need one honest step forward.
And sometimes, that step is simply deciding to begin again.
