Uprooted, Adjusting, and Now Learning to Heal

I feel like my whole life’s been flipped upside down lately. I packed up everything and moved 2,700 miles away from the place I called home for the last 27 years, all because I wanted a better future for me and the kids. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I didn’t expect the small things to get to me the way they have.

Take the water, for example. Not only does it taste off, but I don’t like all the stuff in it — the chemicals, the fluoride, the PFAS. It just doesn’t sit right with me. So I started filtering the water in the kitchen and even went as far as buying distilled water jugs for the bathrooms so we could brush our teeth with something cleaner. I even bought filters for the shower heads. It might sound over the top, but honestly, it gives me peace of mind.

Even with all that, I probably drink less water than I should. And now I’m realizing how much that might have been catching up with me. Yesterday I ended up in the ER for seven hours. They ran everything — bloodwork, urine sample, CT scan — and finally told me what was going on: diverticulitis.

So here I am on a three-day broth diet, on top of 10 days of antibiotics, and after that, I’ll have to completely change the way I eat. No corn. No popcorn. A whole list of things I’ll have to avoid forever. Which feels overwhelming, because I was already so limited with food. I’m gluten intolerant, allergic to chicken, and my body just rejects a bunch of other things. Now it feels like I’ve got to become a full-on food cop with myself just to stay healthy.

It’s exhausting. I already gave up so much by moving, and now my body is asking me to give up even more. But at the same time, I don’t really have a choice. If I want to be here for my kids and actually thrive in this new chapter, I have to figure out how to work with it.

I never imagined my “fresh start” would look like this — standing in my kitchen sipping broth, keeping mental tabs on everything I can’t eat, popping antibiotics, while giant jugs of distilled water sit in the bathroom. But here I am. And honestly? All I can do is take it day by day, and try to see it as part of the journey I was meant to be on.


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The MVA Chronicles

✅ I’ve got my Maryland driver’s license
I’ve got my Maryland insurance… but it doesn’t start until August 20th, which means I can’t even make an MVA appointment until the 21st. One hoop at a time, right?

In the meantime, I figured I’d knock out the vehicle inspection. Easy. Or so I thought.

The inspection went just fine — until the guy pointed out a tiny rock chip in my windshield. One little nick from a road trip to Fort Bragg, California… in June of 2021. It’s been there for years with no issue, but in Maryland, that’s a fail.

So I drove straight to a local glass place. They charged me $97 to fill it — and honestly, it didn’t look like they did anything at all. No joke.

I took the receipt back to the inspector and showed him the “repair.” He squinted at it, then looked at me and said:

“They did a HORRIBLE job.”

😳

Then he smiled and said:

“But I’m not going to ding you for their mistake. You’re good. I’ll pass it.”

Welcome to small-town Maryland — where the rules are strict, the inspections are honest, and sometimes the guy behind the counter has enough heart to give you a break when it counts.

One more step closer to those Maryland plates. 🛻
One more day closer to not driving around with California plates like a lost tourist. 😅


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Little by Little, We’re Getting Closer

The kids and I arrived in Maryland on June 17, and honestly? The drive across the country was a complete blur. We left California on a Saturday and rolled into Maryland by Tuesday, 2700 miles in 4 days. Alex and I were driving 12+ hours some days. She and I were trading off after I started getting tired. Then all of us were sleeping in the car at Travel Rest Stops with it still running, just so we could leave the AC on, thanks to all the rain and humidity we hit in most states.

We were cramped in the car each night, tired, and trying to stay sane… with three kids, two cats, a dog, and a tortoise all packed in.

It was definitely an adventure — one I hope I never have to repeat in this lifetime.

But we made it.

Since getting here, we’ve been knocking out task after task. The boys got their Maryland IDs. Alex and I paid for our driver’s licenses, which should be arriving soon. Medical insurance has been switched over. Prescriptions transferred. The boys are officially registered for high school, and Alex is set for college.

I’m still working on getting the car registrations finished — and trying to fully change our mailing address from California to Maryland. It feels never-ending some days, but we’re doing it.

I’ve also applied for a few school district jobs, but so far, no calls for interviews. I’m doing my best to stay patient and positive. I came to Maryland without a job lined up — just faith, determination, and a whole lot of hope that something will come through soon.

Love, light, and prayers for a job.

Nevertheless, I’m proud of us. Even with a long list of “to-dos” still ahead, we’re here and that’s what matters.


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🌿 My Little Garden in Maryland

After 27 years of living in the mountains of Lake Tahoe and the surrounding area of Gardnerville, Nevada, I didn’t expect to fall in love with something as simple as a yard.

In Tahoe, I barely had a yard, just a patch of dirt and a very short summer. I had to put a greenhouse in my garage just to give anything a chance to grow. And even in Gardnerville, where I had chickens, ducks, rabbits, and a garden and outdoor greenhouse, the growing season didn’t last long. The seasons changed fast, and the dry air always made it feel like I was forcing things to grow rather than just letting them.

But here in Maryland… it’s different.

The yard is green. The rain comes often. The humidity? Honestly, I don’t mind it — it feels like everything is alive here. I have a small garden this year, and it’s thriving in a way I’ve never experienced. I’ve got green tomatoes everywhere, chili peppers growing strong — and I barely had to fight for it.

After years of working so hard just to get a few things to grow, this feels like a gift.

I think what surprises me the most is how fast it all happened. In all the years I lived out West, I never had a garden take off like this. There’s something about the soil here, the longer growing season, the moisture in the air — it’s like it just knows what to do.

This yard is healing me in ways I didn’t know I needed. And I’m so grateful for it.

I can’t wait for next year when I can really plan it all out. When I can start from scratch, plant my seeds, and watch them grow from the very beginning. I’ve been saving heirloom seeds for years, just waiting for the right place to plant them. And I think I finally found it. 🌱


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Still Unpacking and Still Processing

Some boxes aren’t just cardboard. Some are emotional.

It’s been four weeks since the move, and I still have a bedroom full of boxes. Cluttered corners. Stacks that make me sigh just looking at them. Every morning I wake up and think: I just want my room back. My space. My peace. My normal.

But the truth is, moving across the country meant leaving a lot behind, not just things, but pieces of a life that held meaning. It’s honestly mind-blowing how much we had to let go of back in Tahoe. Furniture. Keepsakes. Familiar comforts. Even my daughter’s car had to stay behind… until now.

Thanks to my dad, her car is finally on a transport truck headed for Maryland — so she’ll have wheels for college. That moment gave me a breath of relief, a tiny win in the middle of this chaos. Because even when it feels like everything is too much, little wins still matter. And that car will give my daughter a little more freedom to explore as well as not rely on me to take her to school at the end of August.

The truth is, it’s not easy. I’m over the mess. I’m over the boxes. I want my room back. And I want to feel settled, not constantly like I’m digging for socks or that one charger that’s still hiding somewhere under a pile labeled “Misc. Bedroom.”

Unpacking is exhausting. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. I’m realizing it’s not just about stuff. It’s about letting go and starting over while still holding the weight of everything that came before.

Maryland is a fresh start, yes. But new beginnings come with growing pains. And sometimes, a bedroom full of clutter feels like a reminder that I’m still in the middle of it.

But here’s the thing: boxes don’t stay forever. They will get unpacked. My room will feel like mine again. And this chapter — even with all its messiness — will be part of the story I one day look back on with pride.

One box at a time. One breath at a time.


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