For most of my life, I've wanted things that were the opposite of what the rest of the world insisted I should want: I wanted to own a small, simple home, with things that were truly important to me. I found that, after years of having one, I didn't want to own a car. I didn't want a huge TV or cable, either. I didn't want a big, handsome house or condo with the mortgage, and the upkeep, and the curb appeal.
After trying out the “dream big” lifestyle, and buying into hustle culture for the better part of a decade, I realized that I couldn’t really picture myself in that world. Even as a child, I never wanted the newest toys or envied others who had so much more compared to our family. For the child in me, my purest dream, as Ms. Woolf wrote in her seminal book, was to have a “room of my own” to read and write in, to savor the days in without having to constantly worry about the lawn or the repainting or the seasonal decor.
I wanted to live “small,” without the vicious cycle of retail therapy, and other compulsive habits in an attempt to destress from a life I was chasing instead of living.
It’s immensely ironic, and a bit cliche, that I got my wish during one of the worst crises in human history. After negotiating for it months before the pandemic, @timklimowicz and I finally bought a small heritage bungalow (mortgage-free) by the beach. The year was all about juggling the renovation, Tim’s work (thankfully flourishing in spite of the crisis), and my shift back to creative writing and editing. We moved into our @bamboongalo (we used bamboo for our siding and our interiors) an hour before the New Year, and after a few minutes of bleary celebration, we crawled into bed as soon as we could, bone tired.
Tomorrow, I'll turn 43 years old. I feel grateful, I feel fortunate, I feel loved. I feel overflowing. I want to spend the day giving back, and I want to keep giving back. I've been given so much, even during the hardest times in my life.
No one really has it easy, but I've been in the world long enough to know it's not the same kind of difficulty for everyone. I've already won most of the battle by having a support group I could depend on (two fathers, a fierce mother, brothers, aunts, and cousins who would drop everything to help me). I’ve crossed paths with many kind people and made close friends who have generously given me their shoulders to stand on.
I’ve never been afraid of being single or lonely all those years when I had made peace with the possibility that a romantic relationship wasn't going to happen anymore because I grew up with a mother who sat me down and told me in no uncertain terms that it was better for me to be alone and happy than be with someone who made me miserable — to hell with what anyone else thought. I was found happiness, small and big, on my own, and finding someone was simply an unexpected bonus.
I was born and raised, love and live as a free person. This is the gift that gave me courage to start again, to fail and get back up, over and over again, until I found the right space and the right love that let my gift grow. This is a gift that no one can take away.
If superstition has any sway at all in the universe, my wish is that everyone realizes that they have this gift, too, and that they use it as many times as it takes to build a life, to build with love.