Memory Lane

I have been so sick for the last couple of days, to the extent that I couldn’t even get out of bed. Yes, that sick. In the past few years, I managed to work out or at least stretch when I was sick, even when I had COVID, but not this time.

B. called. What was supposed to be a quick catch-up ended up lasting three hours. It had been a while since we last spoke on the phone, so there were many gaps to fill.

Since we parted ways in London, he has moved to Shanghai, Taipei, and now Cape Town. He has grown his business and made a name for himself, just as he said he would when we were together. He shared that in the last couple of years, his dad had once again asked if he wanted to pursue a more “serious” profession, which still hurts him to this day. We reminisced about the challenges we faced when starting our careers in a foreign country, with odds stacked against us, and little to nothing to our names.

Vagabonds are the dreamers who dare to defy convention and embrace the unknown.

“You know, I am really proud of you,” he said with the utmost genuine expression on his face. I knew he meant it because he was the only one who witnessed me crying after absolutely catastrophic days at work, having to gather enough courage to go back the next day. He saw the less than a hundred pounds I had in my bank account with still a long way to go until payday. He knew how far I traveled each weekend just to tutor for a few extra hours and supplement my income. He knew. He saw. He was there.

He also witnessed how sick I was and wished I wasn’t alone. It made me think about the last time I had someone take care of me when I was that sick. I couldn’t recall. For as long as I could remember, I always seemed to be on my own, nursing myself back to health. I vividly remember cuddling Frankie or listening to the sound of my air conditioning, soothing and guiding myself through discomfort and dark days.

I laughed his comment off and told him I was a tough cookie, but he seemed to see through it. “I know, but it doesn’t have to be this way,” he said.

I know, too.

Memory lane

10 Things I’d Tell My Younger Self

Today I turned 36. For some reason 36 feels a lot older than 35. Even the number looks older, or maybe it’s just me.

I reflected on the last ten years of my life and what I would’ve said to my 26 and 16 year-old self? Would they have been proud of where I am, how far I have come?

After some reflection, I’ve come to the following 10 things, in no particular order:

1. You Are Tougher and Braver Than You Know

In the years to come, you will inevitably face many obstacles and heartbreaks but you will overcome them all. So soldier on fearlessly. You’ll be okay.

The sea may be vast and treacherous, but we must steer our own boats. Hold on to hope and your life with both hands, always and forever.

One Bright Moon

2. Time, Energy, Attention, Affection, and Money Are All Finite Resources

Don’t waste your valuable resources on people and things that take them for granted. Treat your resources like investments: you are either compounding interest or compounding debt. Choose wisely.

3. You Are Enough

You don’t have to look anyone for approval or reassurance. You are enough. You are doing enough. The moral compass in your heart has a true north.
Honour it.
Follow it.

4. Sit With Your Fear

Sit with your fear. Sit with your solitude. Sit with your tears, your anguish, your pain, your anger, your frustration—Don’t run away. Sit with them until they no longer has power over you.

5. Give Yourself Grace

Extend grace to yourself as you would your best friend. Forgive yourself.

6. Always Be Learning

Listen and read more than you speak. Recognize and accept that your perceptions are flawed. Be intentional and mindful about how you process information.

7. Freedom Is a State of Mind

All you have to do is to choose. Choose your circumstances, choose your decisions. When you become an active participant in your life, they can no longer enslave you.

8. Love as You Would

Don’t hold back. You love well. The people who appreciate you will cherish you for that; the people who don’t, aren’t worth your time. Don’t change how you love because of fear of rejection.

9. Travel

Travel. Alone or otherwise. Broaden your horizon. Don’t wait around for a good time or good company. Life is too short. This is a good time. You are your good company.

10. Laugh to Your Heart’s Content

As loud as you want, as much as you want. Fuck what others say or think. You do you in living your best life.

I lied. There is one more:

11. It’s Not Your Fault

It’s not your fault when men act inappropriately towards you. It was never about how you dressed or what makeup you wore. Changing the way you dress or stop wearing makeup altogether will not stop predators from being predators.
Any nonconsensual contact that threatens your physical safety is assault.
Being assaulted is never your fault.

Now, I have to figure out, what might my future 46 year-old self want to tell me now so I can live my life accordingly.

Don’t Look Back

“Don’t look back.”

In the novel, One Bright Moon, after the main character successfully got out of China, his only means of communicating with his mother and the rest of his family was through writing. Knowing how much he longed for the family he had left behind, his mother would write “Don’t look back” in her letters to him, as a way of cutting strings and urging him to pursue the bright future that awaited him.

Coming from an immigrant family that has given up so much to be where we are now, “Don’t look back” weighs so much more to us than the three syllables it carries.

It’s paradoxical, isn’t it? To carry our past with us, yet not look back? I know. I understand this piece of my heritage in the fibre of my being, but I struggle to articulate it to others or even to my younger self when I was grappling with understanding my hybrid identity.

And I guess the context I am trying to portray in this entry is that despite being terrible at goodbyes and at relinquishing the profound emotional ties attached to each person I’ve had to let go, I have mastered the art of Don’t look back.

The first time I voluntarily let someone go was in 2012. My ex and I had traveled the world and moved to a different continent together. We were young, fervently in love, and brimming with dreams, aspirations, and infinite optimism for the future ahead of us. While he wanted to take his company global and travel the world, I wanted to build assets and ultimately start a family.

When you love and respect someone immensely, but are unable to align your futures, you have to let them go so they can soar and find their blue sky. So we did. After many conversations, copious amounts of tears, and too many yet not enough goodbyes, we parted ways.

We remained close friends, seeking each other’s counsel and finding comfort in our familiarity and shared past. After all, we had spent pivotal years of our lives together. We witnessed each other’s struggles as our careers took off in a foreign country, consoled each other during anxious, sleepless nights. We learned each other’s strengths and came to revere each other’s vision and the pursuit of it. He holds an irreplaceable place in my heart, and I in his.

Over the years, we sometimes talked about what would have happened if we had stayed together, particularly when our parents spoke fondly of the other person and inquired about how they were doing. But those conversations were more like thought experiments than reality. The moment our paths diverged, we were destined to end up in different worlds, and that was a good thing. It was part of growing up. We understood that: One can’t be looking forward and looking back at the same time.

The past is a place of reference, not a place of residence.

Roy T. Bennett

Since him, I have fallen in love, but never to the same extent or intensity that I loved him.

“That was it, the love of my life,” I acquiesced. That is, until I fell madly, wildly, unabashedly in love again.

This time, it was with someone like the alchemist in The Alchemist. He belonged to the desert, the wind, the stars, the sun, and every element of the nature, while almost none of the manmade conventions. We made an earnest effort to reconcile our lifestyle differences without betraying who we were.

Eventually, with much anguish and pain, we had to let each other go.

A year after our breakup, on our anniversary, he wrote me a long letter after months of mutually agreed-upon silence:

I still love you. Of course I do. I fell for you so quickly. I don’t fall so easily anymore, and haven’t in almost a decade. But it was so sudden and certain with you, and that part hasn’t changed. It wasn’t a mistake; I was right all along — you will be the closest to marriage I’ve ever been. You’re still the same woman you were when we first met, so my feelings haven’t changed.

But I can’t tell you these things anymore.

It felt like a cruel joke: to be so in love yet we couldn’t be.

“Don’t look back,” was all we could whisper to ourselves on those heartbroken nights as we inched forward in our lives separately.

Letting go means to come to the realization that some people are a part of your history, but not a part of your destiny.

Steve Maraboli

Now, almost six years later, I am glad that we decided to let each other go. I trust that I am exactly where I am supposed to be, and as long as I continue to honour my heart, I will eventually find my personal treasure.

So here I am, soldiering on. Although I don’t know how many goodbyes are yet awaiting me, I do know that I am not looking back. Not now, not ever.

This Blog Turns 1!🎉

Exactly one year ago today, I embarked on this blogging journey to find my voice as a writer and to authentically document my life, as well as some of the new ideas I picked up along the way. Thank you for your loving and encouraging support through this work in progress—I am indescribably grateful.

A lot has happened this year, so I thought I would provide a quick follow-up on some events that I have mentioned but never wrote about again.

Grief

Spring has finally arrived in Vancouver! With the sun’s warmth and the crisp, sweet air infused with a mixture of blossoms, I am slowly emerging from my grief. Instead of aching from not ever being able to interact with my Grandparents, I have healed enough to appreciate the indelible love that will always be with me, now immortalized and transcending space and time.

Lifelong Learnership

I started my master’s degree but decided to take a break when my grandma’s health plummeted. I plan to return to it next fall, once I’ve cleared enough cognitive space for it.

Despite taking a break from school, I haven’t stopped learning altogether. I’ve learned from a myriad of other sources, from books to podcasts, and I would say it has been a fruitful year.

However, my most cherished learning experience this year has been the book club that we formed. It has been an indescribably intimate and invigorating experience, reading books through my friends’ eyes.

Closures and Reconciliations

Over the past year, two of my exes that I hadn’t heard from reached out to me. Although those chapters have long closed for me and I have found closure in my own way, it was still nice to hear their perspective on what had transpired.

Then, there was also this:

Part of me wants to help him get the closure he needs, but another part of me is unsure if there is anything I can offer. I feel that we have had enough conversations about why we didn’t and couldn’t work out, and the rest is up to him to let go?

Happiness can exist only in acceptance.

George Orwell

Where to Next?

Grappling with the deaths of my grandparents, some core aspects of myself were shaken. I assessed and reassessed the axioms that governed me and couldn’t be sure which ones I want to continue to hold onto.

What do I want to accomplish at the end of this journey that is life?
How do I want to contribute to this world?
Who do I want to have by my side?

As I continue to ruminate on these quintessential life questions, I will keep documenting them here.

Thank You💙

Thank you for being here: for your compassion in the past, and for your support in the future. I feel so fortunate to have this space to dock my thoughts—and on those days that were too heavy to soldier on—to have your warm comments to cheer me on.💙

Highly Sensitive Person (HSP)

Have you ever heard of a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) before? No, it is not a term I made up; it is an actual medical term!

What is a Highly Sensitive Person?

A “highly sensitive person” (HSP) is someone who has a heightened sensitivity to the world around them, including emotions, sensory experiences, and external stimuli. HSPs may be more affected by things like loud noises, strong smells, or bright lights than other people, and may also be more prone to feeling overwhelmed or overstimulated in busy or chaotic environments.

HSPs often have a rich inner life and a deep capacity for empathy, and may be highly attuned to the emotions and needs of others. They may also be more reflective and introspective than others, and may have a strong creative or artistic side.

Are you a HSP?

Do you know of any HSPs?

My Journey as a HSP

Before I knew I had a sensory-processing sensitivity, I couldn’t quite figure out why life often felt so overwhelming. I couldn’t figure out why I was easily flustered, overly stimulated in busy environments, constantly affected by other people’s feelings and emotions. I also had no tools to self-regulate. For the longest time, I hated myself for being so “weak”, so “sensitive”.

Growing up, I devised various strategies to not appear weak. From not crying in front of anyone to never asking for help, I tried to mask and condition my reaction to all the stimuli around me.

Most nights I went to bed exhausted. It was a lot to navigate: to feel like something is wrong with you, and to always be fronting a facade.

For years I wished my sensitivity away and tried to desensitize myself but I guess I just am not neurologically wired that way.

“In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.

And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.”

Albert Camus

Life as a HSP Right Now

While I still experience more highs and lows than I’d like, and sometimes struggle to be understood even by those closest to me, I’ve learned to appreciate my sensitivity. It allows me to understand my students’ emotional landscape and foster a safe space where they can be themselves. I feel grateful and privileged to harbor such a space for them.

Life is a continuous journey of learning and finding balance between asking for too much and conceding too much, and this applies to everyone. Though I may have more stimuli to navigate and more feelings to process, in the grand scheme of things—life is good.

My Scattered Brain

“You can’t see the future coming — not the terrors, for sure, but you also can’t see the wonders that are coming, the moments of light-soaked joy that await each of us.”

John Green

Sunday, Feb 12, 2023

Today I felt a strong urge to write. It’s been a while since I’ve wanted to write, partly because work has been insanely busy, partly because I haven’t read or thought of an idea I felt compelled to share.

To be honest, I don’t have an intriguing idea to share this time either, just some half baked thoughts I wanted to park here, until further development. I am also an external processor, so perhaps by the end of this entry, some progress could have been made. Without further ado, I present to you: My Scattered Brain.

Chapter 1
Reconnecting With the “Love of My Life”

A couple months ago I started talking to my ex again, the one with whom I had pined to share the rest of my life’s adventures; the one who, when our relationship didn’t work out, I had to travel around the world so as to collect the remnants of my heart for nearly two years before I was ready to love again. Yeah, him. He, who, when I was finally no longer in love with, still felt envious of his new girlfriend who got to bask in his undivided attention, his warm, unfathomably grand, love.

I remember I used to rehearse our re-connection in my mind.
What would I say?
How would I feel?
Would he still be my kryptonite?
Did he still remember much about us?

You see, it had been a while since I last thought about our reunion, and so when he messaged, my heart naturally skipped a beat. A lot of feelings came flooding. I viscerally remembered the butterflies I felt each and every time I saw his name appearing on my notification. However, this time, after I searched in the depth of my heart, I realized it was nothing more than just a shadow reaction from the past. There was no part of me that want to be with him—ever—again.

We carried on a casual conversation, catching up on the last few years we had lost. We updated each other on our new adventures, shared some of our triumphs and failures in relationships, discussed our new investment strategies, and ways in which we have grown as people. The conversation flowed seamlessly, for, he is a great conversationalist. He was still the witty, well-read, and humorous; and while I could see how that could be so dangerously alluring and charming, I no longer felt any romantic spark. In fact, I felt relieved that I was no longer in that dynamic, in which I was regularly waiting for our reunion, since he was constantly traveling, constantly coming and going. I spent so much of my life yearning to be in his arms that I had missed so much of the life I was living.

Shortly after we started talking I knew, without resounding certainty that—he was not the love of my life.

Chapter 2
The Impermanence of Love

I often say, “the only constant in my life is change.” This paradox simultaneously bemuses me and terrifies me.

Perhaps, romantic love, too, is impermanent and fleeting.

Perhaps, there is no such thing as “the love of my life.” There is only, “the love of my life right now.”

It pains my heart to even remotely ruminate on the possibility of it being true.

“What do you mean there is no such thing as the love of my life? I see it in the people around me, what do you mean I can’t have it, too?” my heart earnestly protested.

But maybe this adaptability is the double-edge sword of my life. While I can adequately pivot and let go of what no longer serves me, I also don’t get to savour the comforting reward of permanence.

Chapter 3
Karmic Cycles of Life, or the Lack Thereof

Friday, March 03, 2023

Clearly, I lost my train of thought from the last time I wrote, so I figured I’d start a new one.

In Jay Shetty’s 8 Rules of Love: How to Find It, Keep It, and Let It Go, he talks about this karmic cycle of love. The term “karmic” is not used in a supernatural sense, but rather in how our actions have natural consequences that can affect our relationships with others. He gave the example of lying about going to a party to a spouse, only to run into the spouse’s friend at the party and have their lie exposed. In this example, the “karmic” consequence of deceit would be a fracture in the trust of the relationship. It was an interesting take on “karma” but I am not sure if I fully agree with it.

In any case, that chapter of the book had me thinking about another one of my ex, one who cheated.

For over three and a half years, we were in a serious, committed relationship, and we made a great team. He was steadfast at building the next phase of his career, so while he focused on his work, I took care of the personal aspects of our life together. This included organizing (large) parties, buying gifts, and maintaining relationships with family, friends, and colleagues. Our partnership was solid, and we complemented each other’s strengths. Together, we created a happy life that was filled with love, laughter, and cherished memories. We’d also attend networking events together, in which I’d be his wingwoman—a role I thoroughly loved and was good at.

It always felt like I was helping him build his empire, so after many conversations, we decided to buy a place together as a symbol of building a shared future.

I was naive to think a land deed would be enough to physically bind two people together. After he cheated on me, he suggested marriage as a way to fix things. But it was too late for me. I had already reached a point of no return. I could no longer envision myself sharing a life with someone who’d choose to hurt me so deeply for some short-term excitement. Upset and livid, he gave me two options: either buy out the entire property, which he knew I couldn’t afford, or sell my half to him at the original price, even though the value had increased since our purchase. Ultimately, I chose to sell my half to him.

I’m not sure if there were any karmic consequences for him. The place had nearly doubled in price, and his career still thriving. To be honest, I don’t wish any karmic consequence upon him either. I was just reminded of this past when I read about Jay Shetty’s take on karmic cycles. But as I said, this is just a scattered-brain entry.

Chapter 4
Secrets

Sunday, March 05, 2023

Research finds the experience of keeping a secret is akin to carrying a physical weight.
How heavy are yours?

Some secrets can derail us from the people we aspire to be.
Are yours?

Who do you want to be?
Who do I want to be?

Dazed and Confused

Thank YOU for 1,000!

In the end, maybe we must all give up trying to pay back the people in this world who sustain our lives. In the end, maybe it’s wiser to surrender before the miraculous scope of human generosity and to just keep saying thank you, forever and sincerely, for as long as we have voices.

Elizabeth Gilbert

♥︎ THANK YOU! ♥︎

I started this blog on May 5th of 2022, and in some 8 months, we have grown to 1,004 subscribers! I am at a loss for words for all your support and kindness, and most importantly—for the space you’ve held for me and my sometimes overwhelming thoughts and emotions.

I thought I’d reintroduce myself, for those of you who’s joined us more recently and perhaps haven’t had a chance to go back to the earlier entries. Afterwards, if you don’t mind sharing, I’d love to get to know about you, too!

Background & Profession

Hi, I am Andie. I am a Taiwanese Canadian, who was born in Taiwan and immigrated to Vancouver when I was 13. I am a teacher; I have been one for as long as I can remember. I have taught ages from daycare all the way to college! Teaching is something I am deeply passionate about. The students invigorate and inspire me in unimaginable ways.

Interests

When I am not teaching, I love:

• exercising,
• reading,
• learning about investment related topics (real estate, stocks, Crypto, etc),
• writing,
• traveling

2023 Goals

As a stoic (albeit an impure one), I am more of an Everyday Girl; therefore, I am not much of a resolutionist. However, I do have some goals for this year! I’d like to learn how to pole dance. My goal is to take my first class on Jan 21. I will report back on this!

Oh, and more adventures! Always more adventures 😊

What else would you like to know about me? Ask me in the comment section below, along with something unique about you!

An epiphany, about death and dying

Early, early Friday morning, instead of celebrating the last day of class with my students at school, I started my day in the ER.

The ER in downtown Vancouver is a despondent place, draped with homelessness and flagrant socio-economical divide.

As I sat there alone, witnessing the suffering surrounding me, I came to a visceral understanding of myself: While I am unfazed by death itself, the process of dying alone is rather daunting.

I went in to the ER for chest pain and heart palpitation that has lasted some 36+ hours (and is still haunting me, 8 days later). However, I was in manageable amount of pain, as well as a clear enough headspace. I wondered how scared I would’ve felt if I were buckled over in pain, and not having anyone to lean on?

Since Grandma passed 6 months ago, I have been thinking a lot about death, about dying. Then when Grandpa passed some almost 3 months ago, I witnessed a vastly different dying experience unfurled before my eyes. I suddenly had to reevaluate my life decisions, particularly the ones that’ll affect how the last chapter of my journey will look like. While I don’t think children are an essential part of the picture I have in mind, but a dependable partner is very much desired.

December has always been an introspective month for me, with how much has happened in this year, I seem to be caught even deeper in thought.

What are typical Decembers like for you? Do you celebrate any festivals during this time of the year? I am currently without my laptop, so I’ll have to edit the layout of this entry later. Hope you’re enjoy the last few days of this year❤️

🍁November🍁

November Update

I feel very sheepish about posting half-baked ideas, particularly the ones that I am still labouring to process. However, I am a practicing imperfectionist, who is learning to embrace the idea that: if I wait for all my ideas and research to be perfect, then I may have missed the most valuable element: time. Or, in the words of Alex Hormozi, whose work ethic I revere: “By the time you have complete information, the opportunity has closed.”

So here I am, squirming to post these raw, unrefined thoughts but posting them nonetheless. 🥂 To stepping outside of our comfort zone.

November came and went in the blink of an eye. I am still trudging through my “third-life crisis”, trying to discern which axioms to best live my life by. While I have been holding tightly onto the people who love me and remind me of the essence of who they know me to be, I also know that I have strayed into the company of vague acquaintances and surfaced conversations. My excuse is that: after long hours of working, learning, and deliberating about the directions for the next stage of my life, sometimes my mind just needs a break, an escape. While I am not too proud of those nights out, nor the company that I had kept, I think they just might be necessary to preserve my sanity for the moment.

Besides my struggle to equilibrate between Romanticism and Pragmaticism (as per my October update), I have also been vacillating between living in the present and planning for the future. Specifically:

How Does One Hope for the Future and Live in the Present Simultaneously?

There are countless wisdom and philosophies about the only path to pure and absolute happiness in living in the present,
and just as much teachings about striving for the future. Here’s what I mean:

Present

True happiness is… to enjoy the present, without anxious dependence upon the future.

Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Realize deeply that the present moment is all you ever have. Make the Now the primary focus of your life.

Eckhart Tolle

You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment.

Henry David Thoreau

Future

We have always held to the hope, the belief, the conviction that there is a better life, a better world, beyond the horizon.

Franklin D. Roosevelt

Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.

Albert Einstein

Hope is important because it can make the present moment less difficult to bear. If we believe that tomorrow will be better, we can bear a hardship today.

Thich Nhat Hanh

Our human compassion binds us the one to the other – not in pity or patronizingly, but as human beings who have learnt how to turn our common suffering into hope for the future.

Nelson Mandela

If these two concepts weren’t dichotomic, then perhaps I wouldn’t be having such a hard time.

Anyways! Here are some photos for those of you who are more visually inclined:

November in Pictures

Whistler getaway with mom&dad💙

Went blonde again after some years

Celebrating beautiful girl friends💙

That’s it from me! Thank you for reading, and for being part of this journey with me💙 Until next time!

My Andie

In the last month, a couple people have proffered that I be theirs.

“I want you to be mine,” they said, despite not having the slightest clue as to how they’d steward me. We don’t even claim ownership over a pet without knowing how to properly steward them, yet some men seem to think women would require less commitment than a pet?

I think I would have found it more romantic if they were to have first asked me what it’d take for me to remotely consider being theirs. But I guess that would have ended up nowhere either, for I would’ve shared with them this quote from Jane Eyre:

I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will

Jane Eyre

Right. At this point, you probably think I am impossible. But I am not! I was once upon a time someone’s ‘My Andie’; though, it was a long time ago now.

I remembered how he used to call me “My Andie”—more notably, how I allowed him to call me his. I retraced our story back to the beginning, to figure out what was different about him, about that relationship.

He wasn’t the first (or the only) person who tried to call me theirs, but why he was the only one to whom I surrendered my independence?

I remembered the very first time when I landed in LAX, he was already waiting for me, flowers in his hands. He teared up when he saw me—long distance had that effect on lovers. He gave me an American SIM that was already paid for, in case I didn’t have a roaming plan. When I arrived at his, there were snacks and drinks that I had briefly mentioned previously in our conversations, crisp linens and fresh towels, as well as a few other small gifts that he had collected whenever he had thought of me—nothing extravagant but all ever so thoughtful: travel size lotion, a book, resistance bands for working out (because I used to use them every day).

When I come across pictures he’s taken of me, I’d see how profoundly loved I was through his eyes. Although we no longer have the same love for each other, it was the best souvenir he could’ve given me.

At that time he was still consulting for a firm, so every now and then he would have to go into the office for meetings. While he worked, I used to wander the city alone. He gave me his credit card, insistent that he took care of all my Uber and other expenses. I never used the card; it was never about the money. How much could Uber rides have cost? It was his generosity in offering me the best of his resources—time, attention, energy, affection, money—instead of what was leftover of them.

He understood both the hopeless romantic, as well as the pragmatic logistician in me, and meticulously planned our adventures accordingly—remembering all my travel preferences and dietary sensitivities. He took care of me down to every quantum detail.

I think it was in those quantum details that he’d won me over. It was the first, and only time, I felt someone else was invested in taking better care of me than I did myself. So when he called me his Andie, I relaxed into it, without much, or any, protest.

For the best of my life, I refuse to belong to anyone, or even to anywhere. I am ardent about being free. Don’t get me wrong, I have been in a few committed relationships, just not one in which I felt that I belonged to them. Even in my readings, I often resonate with characters that are transient in nature:

“Other people were destined to keep leaving, over and over again.” —Alix Ohlin

Or,

“I should have known even then that the sea was written in him, that there would be some sort of leaving.” — Let the Great World Spin

In my heart and mind, I feel unmoored, unanchored. Though, I still am unsure of why.

I wonder if it is because I am never fully willing to relinquish my fierce independence and unfettered freedom? Or, perhaps it is because I struggle to entrust myself to someone else?

And this, is how we have arrived at: Andie Untamed.