Wish You Were Here…
Except I don’t. I don’t wish anyone the raw growing pains of waking up to what they’ve avoided or the uncertainty of standing in the desert of their own life…though sometimes that’s the only way forward.
This is where I am. Joshua Tree. On my birthday. In a lovely home called The Mallow House, a mid-century modern hideaway where every detail feels heart-picked and intentional. Vintage furniture that’s more chic than shabby, sculptural lamps that lean toward art, and clean lines softened by desert light. With my current state, it feels less like celebration and more like confession.
The desert doesn’t allow illusions. There’s no lushness to soften the edges, no shade to hide beneath. Out here, things are bare, stark, exposed. And standing in that kind of light, I can’t avoid my own inventory.
I have to face the mirror. To admit that for years I’ve chosen fun over responsibility, sidestepped commitment when it asked too much and chased waves instead of planting roots. I pretended that agency would arrive on its own. I dressed my drift in the language of freedom when in truth, it was a way of standing still.
And yet, even in the contradictions, there’s virtue. The good choices, the wild moments, the detours. They carry their own balance. But this weekend forced me to sort the decorated truths from the bare facts: honesty with myself is harder than honesty with anyone else.
So no, I don’t wish you were here…unless you’re ready to disrupt your own dysfunctional patterns. Unless you’re ready to look at the unsatisfying life that keeps repeating itself and finally say enough. Reinvention, honesty and hard work are a far greater gift than staying in the comfort of the clouds. If life keeps serving you more of what you don’t want, maybe it’s time to stop sipping from that cup. Maybe it’s time to spill out and pour something new.
Joshua trees don’t grow straight. They twist and sprawl into awkward, crooked shapes that make no sense at first glance. But still, they stretch toward the light. Maybe that’s the work in front of me. Not perfection. Not a smooth, linear line. But growth anyway. Messy, strange, resilient growth.
I can’t rewrite what’s already been lived but I can choose differently from here. And maybe that’s enough. Courage in small steps, clarity in honest reflection and the strength to reach forward even when the path isn’t clear. If you’re standing at your own crossroads, consider this your invitation: disrupt the pattern, choose the harder truth and let yourself grow in ways that surprise you.
🪩🌸 Courage Over Comfort 🌸🪩