Hello all: I’m in my early 30s, unattached, and trying to live the best I can. It’s…been a year, and it hasn’t even been an actual year yet. But today I found it within me to write this, and I’ll hold onto that through the uncertainty I’m facing.

Last week, I got back from a two-week trip to Europe, stopping in London, Edinburgh, and Paris, long-awaited Paris. A very generous friend who lives in London had suggested the trip after I spilled my guts to her about my very unpleasant breakup that I started the year with. She was actually my host as she lives in London, and also my guide to places she’s already been to, and for all of that I’m forever grateful. Besides me being grossly underprepared for what summer was like in Edinburgh — bouts of rain throughout chilly-to-Californified-me days — the trip was a success. Neither of us lost our passports, we ate delicious things, and I made many of my “just a girl” dreams come true.

Obligatory photo of one “just a girl” dream come true

Since scheduling the trip back in February, I had counted down the days until my flight, which I, uh, almost missed. But seeing it get closer on the calendar was also bittersweet because soon, I plan to move back to Los Angeles, which puts me farther away from my mom again. I’ve lived there technically twice, once right after college and then late last summer I had moved in with an ex to a suburb just south of it. The dissolution of that second time was a tough life lesson to experience. (I’m trying out various ways to create and express myself, so hey, videos…)

Living in a different city from family isn’t a particularly strange development for many adults. But for me, my mom has been the one sure thing in my life for a long time now; my dad passed away shortly before I left for college. She’s been a key part of my post-breakup healing and strengthening. She’s not getting any younger. And so this desire to move away again has filled me with a shite ton of guilt. (One thing about me… I love British slang.) Hello, how fun it is to be an only daughter!

So before this trip, I had held a secret wish for some kind of sign or nudge or answer to the question of whether I’m making the right choice. I’ve done a metric damn ton of rationalizing and agonizing, but the questions still circled: will I really have more professional as well as creative opportunities out there? Will the milder weather be worth the pricier rent? Will I be able to create a community? Will I find my Mr. Darcy?

Because despite my best efforts, I tend to romanticize traveling in the sense that I always hope for some “breakthrough” in what I need to do with my life to strike me while I’m in transit or viewing some attraction. Like after past trips though, nothing really earth-shattering came of this one.

Could I get a sign, please?

But…I do feel more inspired. I do feel a little braver, more like an explorer or at least a flâneur. And maybe, this can be enough.

The answers I’m seeking will not come to me. I have to go create them.

Just reading that makes me want to roll out my yoga mat, break out into “happy baby” pose, rock back and forth, and whine. I’ve done a lot of that. But as a friend reminded me recently, I’ve been through tougher shit. (See above part about dad dying.)

I don’t regret my failures. I’m scared of more failures. I know there’ll be more failures.

I’ll close on a quote I saw at the Johnnie Walker experience tour in Edinburgh. No, it’s not their slogan but this…

“Today’s rain is tomorrow’s whisky.”

Literally. But also…life metaphor?

I’m gonna need it on a sticky note.