I’m not a huge fan of rappers, but Kendrick Lamar and I can relate in one intrinsic area: We both have loyalty inside our DNA. I don’t make this claim out of self-righteous pride or superiority—it’s not even an attribute I would have chosen for myself. It’s just a simple fact of my existence.
I’m like a wolf in that regard, crouched and ready to strike if a member of my pack needs vindication or protection. I will not hesitate to bleed in the defense of those I love because once they storm the barriers to earn my trust and secure my heart, I am on their side for a lifetime.
So if I decide you are worth my effort and investment, you don’t need to question whether I mean business. I am loyal to the core—sometimes to a fault. There are parts of this I’m grateful for because when I bond with other humans, it’s fierce and deep and real. I can’t do halfway.
But at times, I have to wrestle against the instinct to be loyal because there is such a condition as loving too hard. And never has that been more achingly transparent than here in the season I find myself now.
I left my wolfpack. Two weeks ago. Crammed my life into cardboard boxes, then followed the highway more than 2,000 miles West on dreams and fear and excitement and loss. As a result, I live in Arizona, or that is what my new address keeps telling me. This Florida girl swapped out her beach towels for hiking boots and the ocean for the desert.
And truly, it’s exhilarating. With mountains on all sides and cacti on each corner, my adventurer’s soul can breathe out here. But that loyal DNA—it remains in Bradenton, and therein lies my pain.
The younger version of me was cynical toward relationships and didn’t believe honest connections were possible. That stone-cold skeptic would be astonished to see me years later, in this moment, reeling over the distance from people who continue to hold my intense, relentless, obstinate loyalty. It’s a blessing and a curse, this zealous kind of love. It has no concept of release.
Can you imagine how much that pierces the heart and wears on the spirit? Maybe you can—I am not the first person to move across the country and feel the reverberations of a drastic, unfamiliar transition. I am not the only human being ever to romanticize the life she left behind, in all its chaos, imperfection and beauty.
This experience is not unique, but it’s mine nonetheless. So I will mourn those far-away friendships and grieve the miles between us. I will miss how they understand me. How they know the depths I have sunk to and the peaks I have climbed. How they can read my emotions with nothing but a look. I hope they sensed it when I tried to return the favor.
So I will be loyal to those memories and connections—for me, there is just no other option. But I will also choose to trust that loyalty is not in vain, and perhaps it can flourish in a brand new chapter too.