San Diego. One of the most famous cities in the world with beaches, breweries, tall buildings, but most importantly, Salt & Straw. So why did I leave?
When I graduated high school, I moved to San Marcos for college and shared a room at the dorms (total waste of money) for my first year. My second year, I shared a master bedroom in an apartment complex. I started working as a server pretty early on which led to me being able to have my own room starting my third year...with a shared bathroom haha. Let me tell you, sharing a bathroom is the worst. I hated it. Nope nope nope nope nope.
Post graduation, I did what a lot of #CSUSM graduates do and moved closer to downtown San Diego. This was a time of no shared bathrooms thank the Lord. I started with Hillcrest, then moved to Pacific Beach, and lastly Normal Heights/North Park.
My "big girl" job...
I had kind of a weird transition between serving in La Jolla and working my 9-5 office job in the heart of downtown SD. There was a few month overlap and a lot of personal changes were going on in my life as well. Many people were referring to my 9-5 as a "big girl job" which made me feel like I was two versions of myself because I didn't really feel any more successful or different. Besides the fact that I finally got to wear heels more than non-slips and cute office job type of outfits that I used to pin on Pinterest, there wasn't really much else I was excited about. Eventually, I was way too exhausted to keep serving on the weekends after putting in 40 hours at my other job and there I was...working only a 9-5 and paying $950 in rent every month in PB. Woo!
In San Diego, it seemed like everyone had accepted having roommates and paying a crazy high amount of money for a room, probably a shared bathroom, and maybe decent kitchen space if you get lucky.
If I was working a job I was super passionate about and had to live this way until I climbed up the ladder to financial freedom, it would be one thing but I became pretty bitter with the entire situation. About half my income was going towards expenses like rent, gas, food, and overall survival.
I finally accepted that my job wasn't giving me the fulfillment I expected and demanded from it and it was never going to because that wasn't where my heart was. I thought that was what I was supposed to be doing with my life having just spent 4 and a half years earning a degree in Criminology & Justice Studies. The reality was that I was thinking about making art 24/7. I was half-heartedly learning and executing my new job knowing I didn't belong there. Even if I got to go to events with views like this (I was an Outreach Coordinator):
There really wasn't much to figure out.
I knew what I wanted and what I had to do to get there. I had some core beliefs about "moving backwards" and feared what people were going to think about me when I did go for it.
Moving back home
I finally made the move and yuuuuup, MOVED BACK HOME. If you would have asked me a year ago, I would have laughed and said that was not in the plan for me...ever.
It has been a few months now and it has for sure been an adjustment, I'm not going to lie. BUT. I am no longer looking at it as a setback and I can truly say that whole-heartedly and believe I made the right decision. It is a privilege to be able to have had this as an option. I know that not everyone can make this exact adjustment for various reasons and have to make their dreams happen differently.
I get to create every day now. I get to rebuild who I actually want to be as an artist instead of following anyone else's made up formula for success.
This very well may not be what I end up doing forever. I may have to pursue something else. That is the driving factor. I know what I want RIGHT NOW. So, if I don't do everything in my power to get there and it fails, at least I could say I put myself in a fair position to try.
What I've learned from this experience is to truly ask yourself if you're happy and be honest. If the answer is no, please do something to change it.
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