Red Eyes, Restriction, and Romcoms
Plus my history with traveling and food anxiety + a long list of (your favorite) cozy movies
You know that surreal space where your body is somewhere over Kansas, your brain is three time zones behind, and your primary sustenance is a bunch of granola bars, sour candy, peanuts, and a little bit of unspecified anxiety? I feel like that’s where I’ve been lately.
We made our transition back to California this past weekend after spending the last four months in Maine.
It’s always a chaotic and exhausting move, with boxes and bags and wet last-minute laundry and “wait, where did we put the dog bowls?” But there’s excitement, too. A bittersweet kind of joy. I feel so lucky to have community in both places, even if it means I’m always missing someone, somewhere. The grief and joy of this can coexist a little more easily now, and they didn’t used to.
But there was a time when airports didn’t just mean getting from one place to another — they meant navigating all the little, invisible negotiations with food and my body.