A couple of weeks ago, my fiancé and I moved back to California after living in New York City a mere six months. Long story short, our lifestyle preferences clashed too much with the Big Apple (read: shoebox living and heavy pollution vs. spacious homes and abundant nature) for us to justify staying and growing roots, leaving our west-coast roots behind.
Luckily, our relationship has grown because we've been supportive of each other through the laughs and the tears (and there were many). We've witnessed miraculous transformations and cheered each other on through monumental career shifts. Not to mention, we conquered a completely new city together! There's something to be said for living 3,000 miles away from family and friends — it really solidified Team Us.
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After all these changes, I was nervous to move back to my parents' house with my fiancé while we looked for our new apartment. My family's dynamic is at best, polite, and I knew there were going to be some big showdowns. Unfortunately, I was proven right. After just one week, I found myself in furious tears too many times to count.
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In the past, I tried to be the "I'm strong and don't need anyone to save me" type of woman, but I'm slowly realizing I don't need to be. In the midst of chaos, my fiancé has mercifully been my knight in shining armor and always provided a tissue to wipe my tear-stained face on. His presence in my life is stronger than ever because for once, I'm letting myself fully trust him with my feelings and vulnerability. It's hard, but it's powerful. Regardless of all the turmoil going on outside, I know I can find my way back to safety with him. And that's worth everything.
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