I knew I would be emotional coming to Los Angeles just to leave again (and for good), but I didn’t expect to care about leaving my apartment and friends so much. When I landed at LAX, I was greeted by my always cheerful roommate, and we met up with our coworker for dinner and drinks in Malibu. The combination of peach sangria and fun conversation really made it hit hard: I was truly going to miss this. Then we got back to my apartment and I noticed adorable furnishings and décor added by my roommate since I had left in March, and I saw a welcome home sign hand-made for me. That made everything sink in even more.
An emotion I didn’t expect to feel came over me suddenly: pride.
I was leaving behind the life I had begun to build as a young professional in the City of Angels. An emotion I didn’t expect to feel came over me suddenly: pride. I was proud of the two-bedroom apartment I rented in a super safe, nice area with my roommate. I was proud of the welcoming and beautiful sanctuary I made for myself in my room. I was proud of the hard work I put in at my job which provided me with extra trust from my boss. I was proud of pushing through all the obstacles I overcame during my time in LA and the fact that I could look back at my time with a smile.
This change was not easy from the start. Leaving the number one broadcast news magazine is not something I take lightly, and leaving Los Angeles after living there for only a year does not seem very successful to me when put on paper. However, I know the circumstances are extreme, and this time in the world is unprecedented.
I let myself be in my feelings that night, but I was in Los Angeles to leave, and I had accepted that. The next day I got to work, literally at my job, and also on listing furniture for sale, writing lists and preparing myself for the busy, stressful and sleepless week ahead.
Whitmanythought 1: The next post you read will be the start of my return back to NJ!