Stuck in Forward Motion

I didn’t intend to move away from home the way I did.

I had hoped to move out of Fresno one day, but on a timeline that I no longer recall.

This year marks my third year living in Santa Cruz. Before continuing, I have deep gratitude and love for where I am now. Living here has been a dream of mine since I was 12. I do not wish to be misunderstood as lacking appreciation for the life the Lord has so graciously gifted me with. Still, this week has been full of reflection on how I ended up here. I find myself nostalgic and reminiscing on all the moments that quietly stitched themselves together. During my times of reflection, I found myself wishing I had written more – to know what I was thinking and feeling in these short yet lengthy years of my life. I’ve since decided that writing was better than wishing.

In moving away from home, I have grown a fondness for Fresno. Something I truly never thought I would say about the Valley. Absence does make the heart grow fonder. My memories of the Valley softened once distance became reality. Truthfully, it is not so much the place that I miss as it is my parents and siblings. There’s an essence of being known in the Valley that doesn’t really exist in this new place. There was a version of me back in my hometown that I did not have to constantly prove or brace because I was surrounded by the people who had known me my entire life. That version of myself learned how to walk alongside the one I was becoming, but without their daily presence.

In May of 2023, I had quit my job at a coffee shop and unknowingly stepped into what would be the start of a new life in Santa Cruz. The intent of coming to Santa Cruz was simple: work at summer camp for *just* the summer, return home, work at another local coffee shop, and enroll in a master’s program after graduation. As it turns out, it wasn’t that simple. It never is when you’re chasing a dream.

It was not an accident that I ended up here; I was chasing a dream intentionally. What was accidental was how quickly life renegotiated its terms; faster than I had time to consent to it. While at camp, I applied for an internship. Instead of moving back to Fresno, I stayed for another year, thinking, “I’ll move back next year instead!” Once again, everything changed. Clearly, I did not move back home. Each choice of “I’ll stay a bit longer” was an adaptation to my circumstances. As time went on, I got to learn that constant adaptation can quietly turn into living in survival mode.

Since moving here, I have lived in forward motion. In true cliche fashion, life kept moving. But, my mind was playing catch-up from the moment I arrived. With the start of each new chapter, my body was present, but my mind lingered in the previous one. There was no margin to grieve what had ended, nor to celebrate the current moment. Without a pause, there was also no space to recalibrate expectations.

In particular, I struggled during this internship. The pedestals I hadn’t realized I built collapsed, along with me. Without providing an in-depth commentary, my expectations did not match reality. The internship and the aftermath turned out to be one of the hardest for me emotionally, mentally, and physically. This is partly why I am writing now, as a sort of weird form of catharsis. A way for me to trace and understand the path that led here.

After the internship, I moved to a new home in Santa Cruz with a family who was kind enough to give me a space to live. I continued working at camp (no internship) and took up a new job as well in order to afford rent in literally one of the most expensive places in California. Between the two, I had one day off a week. Looking back on this, I was not functioning at a normal level. Though, I didn’t realize this at the time. Again, my body was present, but my mind was not. I was burnt out and dragging myself by my nails each day, fighting exhaustion and a deep depression.

It was not all bad, though. How can it be when a little surf town is your home? I still found ways to enjoy my time and loved my time with people I love. Yet, it is hard to give when you’re pouring from an empty cup. I became a recluse in ways I am only beginning to understand. As I have begun to come out of it, I’ve noticed how hard it feels to relearn valuable connection with others. In trying to steady my feet beneath me, I had pushed people away rather than leaning on them. Burnout, as I have learned, doesn’t always announce itself in the usual ways. Sometimes it’s disguised as perseverance.

By the grace of God, I was offered a new job in March of 2025. I left my two jobs, as this new one was able to provide me with better pay and healthier hours. Leaving camp was bittersweet, yet a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. A few months into this new role, my immune system tanked. I was sick every other week, and no one could explain why. It’s not exactly ideal to start a new job and miss work constantly. Eventually, you get sick of being sick, longing and craving being healthy again. Thankfully, there have since been some answers – but that’s a story for another day.

I say all of this to say: my body eventually forced quiet into my life.

For the first time since 2023, things have finally slowed. In the quiet, I have begun to unpack a wide range of emotions that I haven’t been able to while everything was in motion. There is a threshold I’ve reached where constant motion is no longer a shield I can hide behind. I’m finally in a safe space where I can look back without having to run forward at the same time.

It’s a little disorienting when all you’ve grown used to is survival. Stepping out of it is like watching the sunset. For a long while, I was only scanning the horizon, waiting for when the sun had gone down to prepare for the next day. Now, I am learning what it means to linger and slow down – to experience the day as it unfolds, without needing it to be more.