For the first six months, Pensacola and I did not have a good relationship. It took me away from a place that felt like home and people who brought such joy and love to my life. Comfort, familiarity, and a sense of community became memories. And I hated Pensacola for that. I didn’t always realize it, but I was fighting the transition, resisting acceptance of my circumstances.
Within the last few weeks, I’ve come to see how much harder I have made the transition for myself. The struggle has not ceased, but I believe I’m rising above this valley.
I’m learning again and again to embrace where I am, to accept that the extent of my control is limited, and that nostalgia can do more harm than good.