One Year In California: a Letter of Reflection

One year ago, we moved to California with a suitcase full of hope and a heart full of questions.

I didn’t have a detailed five-year plan or a picture-perfect vision board. What I did have was a persistent ache for change—something freer, softer, warmer. I was chasing sunshine in the literal and metaphorical sense. I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for, but I knew I needed space to remember who I was before the world told me who I should be.

This post isn’t just a recap of the last twelve months. It’s a reflection on what it means to start over from the inside out.

The Highlights: A Year of Discovery

Let’s start with the easy part—the highlight reel.

• Road trips up the California coast, where the sky and sea blur into one.
• Lazy beach days with sand-covered snacks and saltwater curls.
• Farmers markets, night markets, hidden cafes, and new traditions.
• A whirlwind of firsts: our first California Christmas, our first time seeing the redwoods, our first glimpse of what home could feel like here.
• One culture shock after the other (I still can't believe there are hardly any bugs here!)

These moments were magical. But they weren’t the whole story.

Shedding Old Layers

Beneath the adventures was a slower, harder process: unlearning.

For most of my life, I’ve been handed labels—extra, dramatic, chaotic. And let’s be real, I am those things. I have ADHD. I cry during commercials. I get unreasonably excited about seasonal decor, I try on new hobbies like it’s an Olympic sport.

But I’m also deeply kind. I’m loyal. I have a spicy side (reserved for people I feel safe with), and I overthink because I care. I spiral because I dream big.

Somewhere along the line, though, I stopped showing up as that full version of myself. I watered myself down. I kept trying to be palatable, professional, digestible.

And in doing so, I lost touch with the wild, weird, wonderful parts of me that made life feel vibrant.

California as a Mirror

Moving here didn’t fix everything. But it cracked something open in me.

There’s something about this state—the way it holds contradictions with ease. Urban grit and ocean peace. Surfers and scientists. Tech bros and tarot readers.

California doesn’t ask you to make sense. And for me, that’s been wildly healing.

It gave me space to ask: What if the things I’ve been told were “too much” are actually my magic?

What if I didn’t need to reinvent myself to be worthy—but simply remember myself?

From Travel Blog to Discovery Journal

When I started this blog, I thought it would be a place to share itineraries and tips—cute cafés, weekend getaways, can’t-miss views. And yes, I still love all that. (Trust me, the need to explore every corner of this expansive state is strong over here.)

But something deeper is taking root.

This blog is becoming a reflection of my inner journey as much as my outer one. It's a space where I get to share:

• My evolving relationship with self-worth and creativity
• The little joys that make life feel magical
• The stories behind the places I visit and the people I meet
• Honest conversations about identity, motherhood, ambition, and reinvention

3 Things I’ve Learned About Myself This Year

1. I’m not too much—I’m just tuned in.
For most of my life, I tried to shrink the parts of me that felt “extra”—the big emotions, the big ideas, the big everything. But this year, I realized that sensitivity is my superpower. I feel deeply because I care deeply. I dream big because I believe big. I’m not too much—I’m just aligned with a life that needs space for all of me.

2. I thrive in beauty, but not in perfection.
I used to think I had to have it all together before I could show up—clean house, clear plan, curated content. But California reminded me that wildflowers bloom without a blueprint. I’m most alive when things are a little messy, a little spontaneous, and totally infused with joy. Give me a good playlist, a half-baked idea, and a beautiful view—I’ll make something meaningful out of it every time.

3. Reinvention doesn’t mean starting over—it means coming home.
I didn’t move here to become someone else. I moved here to remember the parts of me I had silenced, postponed, or outgrown without even noticing. Reinvention, it turns out, isn’t about becoming new—it’s about peeling back the layers and saying, “Oh, there you are.”

Year Two Intentions: More of Me

As I enter Year Two of this California chapter, I’m bringing all of me with it. Not just the “aesthetic” version. Not just the mom version. Not just the travel guide.

The whole me.

The deeply reflective, occasionally chaotic, weirdly sentimental, sunshine-chasing, avocado-toast-eating version.

If you’ve been here from the beginning—thank you. If you’re new—welcome. I hope this space helps you feel seen, inspired, and reminded that growth and joy are always available to you.

Let’s Keep Growing—Together

This isn’t the end of a chapter. It’s the beginning of something fuller, deeper, and far more honest.

So here’s to late bloomers. To new beginnings. To unfiltered joy. And to California—thank you for the wide open space to remember who I am.

I’m just getting started.

With sunshine,
Maria