Good Riddance

On Energetic Spring Cleaning

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March zipped around the corner so fast I had no time to realize February had ended and spring was almost here. It seems my body noticed the shift, though, as I’ve found myself moving away from heavier, heartier stews and craving warm but lighter broths, fish with lemon, rice and seaweed with drizzles of sesame oil. I’ve also been thirstier at night and making myself an evening “hydro-elixir” (Greg teases me for calling it this) with coconut water, lemon, fresh-squeezed orange juice, and sprinkles of sea salt. I’ll include the recipe at the end, in case it’s sounding good to you.

Flowers have been popping up around the property, and Remi has been diligently learning and memorizing their names, pointing them out when she sees them around town—calendula, daffodils, daphnes, and flowering plum trees.

This month marks the beginning of our third year since moving to Northern California and crossing over into our new life. I have always found March to be the bleakest, most somber of the months—far from the holidays but not yet close enough to the warmer seasons. Although it wasn’t intentional, it’s interesting that it was the month we wound up leaving for our L.A. exit back in 2024.

I remember those first weeks after arriving as a mix of relief and uncertainty, while simultaneously grappling with the cold of winter in my body—a depletion aggravated by the physical exhaustion and decision fatigue of the move.

While I still can’t say it’s a month that excites me much, this year feels different. The thaw has begun, and I feel attuned to the threshold of the seasons in a way that feels invigorating—like something is percolating just beyond a silky curtain, and I am sneaking little glimpses as it flutters back and forth in the wind.

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Standing at the border, mid-step between winter and spring, I began thinking about boundaries—the ones for self-protection. “Hold a boundary”—a popular phrase you hear thrown around, but one that is maybe not so easily implemented. I’ve written before about being an HSP and an empath, and I think this trait contributes to difficulty with “boundaries.” I worry a lot about how everyone else is feeling, and so making a boundary feels almost akin to a form of assault. If creating a boundary seems self-serving, that’s because it is. It is a formal decision to put oneself before others, to hold the line—whether with an employer, a co-worker, a family member, or a friend.

Of course there are endless, varying degrees of circumstances in which a boundary should be drawn. For me, even the mild ones can be challenging to uphold, but I feel I am entering a new era. One in which I am a little less afraid to be “selfish.” One in which I am unapologetically in pursuit of my interests. One in which protecting my energy and my time is prioritized. One in which anything dragging me down or holding me back can kindly go.

This sounds defiant. But what I’ve come to realize is that it doesn’t always have to be something so boldly announced. It can be a quiet decision, and it’s even possible it goes unnoticed by anyone but yourself. Either way, it will be felt in your nervous system. What it really feels like, more than putting up a barrier, is curation. Taking agency over daily life and habits, editing where necessary. A kind of energetic spring cleaning, if you will. It may just be in subtle actions like how you move through your day, slowing it down a bit when possible and reordering the to-do list in a way that feels lighter. I am learning to ask myself: Do I need to explain? Make excuses? Or can I just go about it casually? Not answering a work email after a certain time of day or canceling a dinner plan in exchange for self-care instead.

I think the trick is that it has to come from a place of purity. Meaning the intention behind the action of a boundary has to be devoid of ulterior motives. It cannot be an act of revenge or any kind of proving energy—otherwise it’s just passive aggression. You’re stomping your foot, demanding a reaction—because something in you wants a different outcome. You may get a reaction, but it likely will not solve the thing that actually needs protecting or healing. It’s a fine line, and only you yourself can truly know the difference.

When I think of where we were just two years ago, as we left our old life behind to begin anew, it really was an edit of massive proportions. A letting go in order to reclaim, recalibrate, and reposition ourselves for something that felt better.

There are things, people, and places in life that take up space physically and energetically, swelling up and constricting us sometimes to the point of immobility, and it’s usually because we are hell-bent on holding onto an outdated version of self, disillusioned into believing we must maintain loyalty—even if it’s robbing us of something essential—in our case it was an entire city.

While “selfish” is still a scary word, when I move past it and make space for myself in big or small ways, it allows me to fall in love with life again. I feel the landscape around me beginning to soften and expand. I feel a little closer to a new version of self who has, without expectation or obligation, been patiently waiting to meet me.

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Evening Hydro-Elixir

My nightly hydration ritual lately:

• About ¾ cup coconut water

• About ¼ cup water

• Juice of 2–3 freshly squeezed oranges

• Juice of 1 lemon

• 1 hefty pinch of good sea salt

• Optional: a splash of coconut milk

Instructions:
Mix everything together well and pour over ice—or enjoy it as is.