Mishaps with a mannequin

Now I’m here. But sometimes, I wonder.

I’ve thought about starting this blog a hundred times—usually mid-day, in one of those moments where I stop and think: what the fuck did I do? I laugh, because honestly, what else can you do?

In those moments I tell myself, I have to write this all down, share this with my community. But when night comes and I finally sit down, the words vanish. Living here in Germany feels too big, too weird, too much for a tidy little sentence. And some days, feeling so far from my communit…and my dog Korbe, who I believe was a direct descendent of Jesus Christ.I just push the thoughts away and worry about Dativ or Akkusativ instead.

Maybe the best place to start is at the beginning. Almost a year later, I can finally think about it without flinching.

The truth is, I had a great life. I always have. I loved my business—it was the hardest thing to leave. It was my love story: I helped name it, build it, open its doors. And then, somehow, I found myself pushed out of those very same doors I had helped to create—a place where I’d imagined everyone could just be themselves.

One day, I showed up to work to a note to forward to all my employees welcoming someone to my position. The only problem was…I hadn’t actually left. I felt like I’d been shot, but some people do how they do and I guess I’d been pointed to the door I’d opened. Like a million times. I still can’t come to grips with my exit, but I can laugh about it because- facade, pulpits and stages. And the girl in the black t-shirt. I didn’t fit anymore. Used to it!

I had a place to go in Europe—which sounds like every American’s dream. Someone dear to me was here. But I also had a whole life on Valencia Street—and a dog who wasn’t invited.

It was July 17, 2024. I just broke. Two years earlier, a significant relationship had burned me up, beaten me down, and left me for dead. Now I could feel everything in my life slipping away. And I knew: Ich werde nach Deutschland gehen. All I really had tying me to my life was my dog. I knew I couldn’t leave him, but I also knew my life was leaving me. I cried once, because it was all just too big.

I moved out of my beloved home and sold it in September. I gave my notice, gracefully….so technically it was “my” decision. So many feelings about that- i hate bullshit though.  I got rid of my plants, died a little inside, and gave away my stuff. I accepted that my books wouldn’t be coming with me. Neither would Korbel. His cancer had returned, and I medicated him with a cocktail to make him last as long as possible.

I put my life, Korbel, down on November 5th. I moved to Germany on November 7th. And I still can’t believe I survived that. Now I’m here…but I wonder. Also fuck SEO but its 2025..>Coping with change???! really….lame.