A Little Sun, A Little Chaos, A Lot of Growth

Here we are.

Four months into this whole “I moved to Florida and started a new life” adventure. Summer’s creeping in, the air is getting heavier, and somehow… this little rental is starting to feel like mine. I know where things are (mostly), I’ve got my routines (kind of), and I’m learning a lot about myself navigating life solo in a brand new state.

And by “learning a lot,” I mean getting humbled daily.

Let’s talk about fleas for a second.

Because WHAT.

In Minnesota? Never saw one. Never thought about one. Fleas were like… a myth. A thing other people dealt with. Not me. Not my dog.

Florida said, “Oh, you thought you were safe? Cute.”

Charlie and I had a full-on bonding experience the last few days—him probably not by choice—as we went to war. Baths. Combing. Sprays. Washing everything I own like a psychopath. I’m talking every inch of this house. Mattress. Sheets. Chair. Floors. Again. And again.

And then… the yard.

There is something deeply satisfying about going full warrior mode with a hose and solution, just absolutely annihilating anything that crawls or flies. Because let me tell you—there are A LOT of things here that crawl and fly. It’s honestly offensive.

Florida is beautiful… and also kinda gross.

Both can be true.

But beyond the bugs and the chaos, life here is full. Like really full. My days are packed, sometimes to the point where I’m like, “What am I even doing right now?” But I’m also making it a point to slow down in the ways that matter.

Sitting in the sun by the pool.
Getting to the ocean every week.
Letting the salt air reset my brain a little bit.

Because if I don’t, I’ll burn out. Fast.

The truth is, building a life here is stretching me in ways I didn’t fully expect. Every single day I have to dig deep to find the energy to show up, promote, talk to people, share what I’m building, and actually put myself out there.

It’s uncomfortable as hell.

Asking for help? Not my thing.
Trusting people? Also not my thing.
Letting go of control? Yeah… absolutely not my thing.

And yet… here we are.

Being forced to do all of it.

Letting my guard down (a little at a time).
Letting people in.
Accepting help.
Letting things be done differently than I would do them.

And not spiraling about it.

It’s this constant practice of releasing the grip I have on how things “should” look and trusting that maybe—just maybe—it’ll all come together anyway.

Not perfectly.
Not my way.
But in a way that works.

And honestly? That might be the bigger lesson here.

Not the fleas. Not the bugs. Not even the move.

It’s learning how to loosen the control, stay open, and still keep moving forward… even when it feels messy, uncomfortable, and completely out of your hands.

So yeah. Four months in.

A little more grounded.
A little more stretched.
A little less in control.

And somehow… still exactly where I’m supposed to be.