What do you want to take with you?
A couple unexpected recalibrations this year
I feel like I have lived a thousand lives since January, and I think most people living in Los Angeles would say the same. The fires took the sparkly, inherent magic of a New Year, and quickly and chaotically broke the hearts of the whole city, especially those whose lives were turned upside down. As someone lucky enough to never evacuate but came a little too uncomfortably close, I did have to pack a “go-bag” and it threw me for a couple of days (as in, it is the end of February and I am still thinking about it.) Not in a panic, high-anxiety way, but instead a low simmer of someone who encountered a forced honesty of evaluating what I really hold dear.1 And it was a shockingly light pack!
What we carry with us is not who we are.
That applies to physical belongings, but also habits, personality traits, people, and even memories. The pieces we surround ourselves with are simply souvenirs of a life lived, relics of experiences and pasts, and self-expression that may be referencing an outdated version of ourselves. It may be something given to us that we never asked for or wanted. This sounds like I hate my life, but I sincerely love it. Each day of the fires I had such immense gratitude for the apartment I call home and the silly little life I’ve built. I still do. But it also permanently changed my perspective on what I need.
I packed a carry-on suitcase of commonly worn clothes, a small box of sentimental items, and my dog (plus his food and favorite toys). There was plenty of room in the car. I had plenty of time to pack. Again, I was so lucky.
With a little time between now and then2, I have started to think about what else I could be comfortable leaving behind. In this highly transitionary chapter of self-improvement, self-help, change, or whatever you want to call it really, I am realizing I carry a lot that I should just put down. It is too heavy, too cumbersome, and simply isn’t really serving me — especially for the life I want to live.
Identity is funny like that. It’s sneaky. It makes you believe all of these things are who you are. That you need them. The mindsets we inherited from our family, the defensive mechanisms we built to protect ourselves, the emotional scar tissue so we won’t be fooled and hurt again. Just like someone who fills a house with too many belongings to feel secure, we can clutter our internal life with things that distract from what could be.
With demands of my freelance clients increasing (very exciting, I love you all), big deadlines approaching, and my own career goals waking me up at night, I have found emptiness in my physical life to be incredibly therapeutic lately. As someone creative who has a brain that is always going a mile a minute, recently it is incredibly easy to become over-stimulated. (Don’t even talk to me about the hood of the stove.) Strange, because I have always been more of a resilient type, but I am trying to pay attention to red flags. To create mental clarity and inner calm3, I quite literally need to physically remove stimulus. It has manifested into getting rid of possessions that serve no purpose, paring down the products I use, wearing the same outfit in rotation, simplifying the food in the fridge, and making sure the apartment is clean and clear of any clutter. Not in a negatively compulsive way, but more in a minimalist, do I really need this / is it benefiting my life, way. And if you knew me, you would see how weird this all is.
For the record, I love things. I love a lived-in space. A Nora Ephron apartment. I love walking into a home and knowing exactly who that person is. Maybe if someone walked into my apartment right now, they would think, wow she must be going through it, and they would be right! This girl is working on something. She just doesn’t quite know what it is yet. But I think that negative space is the only way to allow room for potential.
My next trick (as I pull a rabbit out of my hat) is to create that same space internally. I need to let go of more than a couple of things that have been masquerading as identity. Because they simply aren’t. And when I feel a little panic bubble up as I type that, I know I am right. Ooh, these are deep-rooted and I can feel it.
As embarrassing as it may be to admit in a public forum, I have been doing a bit of future-self work. There are people I admire, but none I idolize. It is almost like I view all the people who are admirable to me as an ideal dinner table that I would love to be seated at. But in this dream, present me isn’t the one at the table. (Bear with me.) Instead, it is a version that is a few years ahead. More grounded, more secure, has accomplished what I had hoped for, and to be perfectly honest, benefited from the hard work I am grinding through right now.
So I check in with her, because who else would know better? She isn’t perfect, but instead an elevated, and most-importantly, achievable version of myself. I let that version guide big and small decision-making and personal changes, comfort fears or anxieties, but also, assure me that what I am trying to do is possible and all will work out. And I don’t know if I would believe it if anyone else was trying to tell me that.
Delusional? Yes, for sure. But also, wildly helpful. Even simply imagining that version creates a goalpost that I can see and feel. If you’ve never tried it, I would strongly recommend closing your eyes, imagining yourself in a favorite place that is quiet and comforting, and letting them meet you there. They may or may not say anything, but you will certainly learn a lot. Sometimes the woo-woo route can be practical and helpful.
All of this is to say, I am carrying things she is not. That is how I can see what needs to be released. In a society that is capitalizing on an attention economy, it feels as if everyone is desperately telling us to need more, buy more, do more, be more — and I personally think it may be better to focus on less. To seek simplicity. To have two steps of skincare instead of twelve, maybe one social account instead of all of them, a closet that doesn’t need to be shoved closed, a calendar with free time. This is not anything new, but feels a little revolutionary right now?4 To be honest, I don’t have any advice for this, it is personal and I am not a self-help guru nor any expert, but I hope we can all realize together that our identity is not things we collect, inherit, or are served. It is far more simple than that. And the only way to hear that quiet voice is to remove all the louder ones.
It’s nice to be back. I hope this finds you safe and well — this morning my (already too long) dog walk was interrupted by a very zany 77-year-old that imparted a lot of stories but also deep wisdom and reassurance that I only got to hear because I stopped and allowed for my morning to get fully derailed. She unknowingly was the catalyst for me to sit down and write this post. Isn’t it funny how productive and inspired we can be when we give ourselves the time to get distracted? It may not be so bad to take a step backwards, or take a break, when seeking progress. In the end, timing is everything.
I want to quickly note that all of this realization and reflection came out of an immense amount of privilege and safety that many Los Angelenos were not afforded. I cannot imagine the loss so many are experiencing right now as homes, communities, and belongings were taken away from them without any notice or ability to even pack a single bag. That was a luxury I am immensely grateful for. My heart is broken for each and every person affected by the fires, and I am working with incredible people to provide comfort to those who could use it. This is not to make light of their situation, but instead simply a personal experience that I hope may resonate with others as well.
“Little time” aka now over a month, with two new clients, thousands of fire relief meals organized, a trip to Sundance, a very sweet friend’s bachelorette, fun family in town, and rollercoaster of what am I doing
Fundamentally shocked I just used this term, who is she. She must be lost.