After months of eager anticipation, I’ve finally landed in Asheville. At just 2,200 feet above sea level, there’s no risk of altitude sickness like when I traveled straight up to 10,000 feet in Breckenridge, CO a couple of years ago, but I’m still acclimating to the change nonetheless. My sinuses are a bit raw from fluctuating between the cold air outside and the dry indoor heat. I’m still unpacking and resisting the tendency to do things as I’ve always done and place things where they’ve always been. I haven’t gone for my usual daily runs yet. Brisk walks with Edie up and down the steep hills in my neighborhood along with some yoga and a Christmas Eve hike have been enough to get my heart pumping for now. Any major life change can bring challenges, but the minor adjustments have been well worth the shift in energy I feel here in the mountains.
Grounded. Peaceful. Secure. Content.
As I was making the long drive here from Wilmington last week, I found myself making the usual notes in my mind along the way “cheap gas, need to remember that on my way back.”
There is no going back, I would realize a minute later.
A couple of days after my arrival, I started to take a mental inventory of what clothes I brought with me to wear out to meet a friend for dinner.
Everything is here, I thought, the permanence of this trip registering once again.
Although I went through the whole moving process at this same time last year, I was doing so then in much more of a frenzy as every aspect of my life was in upheaval. Life has felt like limbo since then, living in a place that I knew was transitional and wondering what was next for me. I felt untethered and disconnected from the place I had called home for so long, like I could’ve easily floated off into space if not for my mom and the support of a few amazing friends who kept me grounded. My old life was gone and the path I was moving toward had not yet fully appeared.
When I visited Asheville to scope things out back in September, everything about my time here screamed YES. As soon as I caught the view of the mountains driving into town, my nervous system shifted. It seemed like I’d been holding my breath, unsure just how much more of this life I could take in, and then finally, a long, full exhale. I drove with ease on these unfamiliar roads, explored artsy shops and healthy food, went to yoga, and had no doubt that this is where I was meant to be. There was an inner knowing that’s hard to explain; I just knew...
I am home.
This move has been much more intentional than the rushed exit from Carolina Beach last December. When I first made the decision to leave Wilmington, I wondered if I was somehow running away, but my path of deep healing and self-discovery has helped me to trust myself and the unfolding of my life, to let go on so many levels, and to be open to what life is offering to me in every moment. I left my home of 30 years with gratitude for every person and every experience that touched my life and shaped me into the woman I am now. I watched the sun rise over Mother Ocean and gave thanks to her for teaching me how to go with the flow and ride the waves of uncertainty and discomfort. I offered prayers of gratitude every day for the blue skies and mild weather and sunset strolls by the Cape Fear River, and for finally making it out of the dark hole of grief. I made time to connect with my beautiful friends and expressed my love and gratitude for their presence in my life. I said goodbye with ease and let go with grace, arms wide open for all that is to come in this next chapter. And while I’m still acclimating to the changes of my new environment physically and mentally, my soul feels content and at peace.
There is no going back. Everything is here. I am home.
View from Craggy Gardens Trail, Blue Ridge Mountains