The Shedding of Old Ashleys

I'm in in the process of stripping away all the old Ashleys I no longer want to carry. London has been helping me with this. Maybe only London can help me with this.

By old Ashleys, I mean all the parts of me that no longer serve me. They brought me here, but they bring me no more value. There was deeply depressed and neurotic Ashley in New York City. And restricted and freezing Ashley in Boston. In all cities, there is the Ashley that constantly chases and obsesses over unavailable men. And my whole life, the Ashley that thinks she's perfectly happy being eternally single and independent, but secretly wants some real love in her life. This new Ashley is saying out loud how she wants deeper connection, and to be held, and to be valued.

I am confronting all the old ladies, and letting them know they can pack up their things now. Because here we are, back in the city that started my transformation. And here we are, back to continue that lovely, difficult, amazing transformation process.

It's funny that a place considered so stuffy and repressed is the one place that allows me to be free. I connect with London because I, too, was once stuffy and repressed. (Just to say, London is not that stuffy, it's just an introverted city, which is probably why I love it).

Being an expat pushes me in ways that no other experience is able to. It's pushing me towards the Ashley I want to be. The one who fully and openly acknowledges what she truly wants is deep, vulnerable, reciprocal community. She wants love of all sorts--romantic love, friend love, all love--she wants to be BRIMMING FULL of love.

Through crying, and healing practices, and inner child work, and taking the time everyday to make space for love (most of all, learning to love myself), new Ashley is starting to become a regular around here, and I'm pretty overjoyed about that.

Becoming an Expat, Again (It's not as glamorous as you think)

Cherry blossoms in Kew Gardens. Should I make an obvious metaphor for my life right now? 

I've been back in London for 2 weeks, and there have already been ups and downs. I've been overwhelmed by a range of emotions coming back, and it's the usual cocktail of fear and anxiety: I am reminded that moving continents is never an easy jump, no matter how familiar you are with the place you're moving to.

The last time I moved to London was about 6 years(!) ago. A lot has happened in 6 years! I am back in the city where I feel most alive, most at peace, and most myself. Therefore, in moving back I am confronted with myself in a very harsh and heavy way, including the bad habits I picked up over my lost years. I am now in the thick of my healing process (which began in Boston). I feel naked and alone with my thoughts--the healing is being fast tracked now.

I suppose this post seems a little dark, but that's because the process of bettering yourself involves shedding a lot of facades, lies, heartache, and energy that does not serve you. I'm so proud of myself for doing this work, for moving back, and for acknowledging and admitting that this is hard. I'm rebuilding my life again, and it's going to be a bit clunky at first.

I could slap a filter on this experience and brag about how well I'm doing, how you should be jealous, and oh, look at me! I'm so worldly and amazing! I've got it all together!

Instead, I want you to look at me: a woman who is scared but brave. One who is not certain she is always making the right decisions, but is following her soul's instructions, anyway. One who misses her parents and feels guilt over leaving them in San Diego, but knows this path is true and right.

This is the start of my journey of being an expat, again. I am thrilled and scared. I am so alive.