Fleeing Florida and Evacuating to the Left Coast: An Ongoing Tale

Elizabeth Park
5 min readJun 15
Photo by Johannes Plenio: https://www.pexels.com/photo/winding-road-photography-1133505/

Today, the reality hit. What the fuck have I done?

Almost two weeks ago, living in Florida as a native Floridian with one of the best jobs I’ve ever had, I decided to change my entire life and move.

At first, it was the planned move — the one that would cut my commute down from an hour and a half each way on the bad days to only about 15 minutes. I was just going up the road a ways. It made sense.

I’d gotten early lease termination, given my notice to vacate. It was going to be worth it to be close to work.

I’d started getting rid of stuff. I was minimalist, right? Shouldn’t be hard.

WRONG. It was grueling. I had to do most of the hauling by myself. I rented Uhaul vans and a pickup truck three different times, plus hauled stuff with my car multiple times. Donation centers, the dump, my son and his girlfriend — my stuff was going everywhere.

By the end, I’d brought in a homeless ex-felon and a newly homeless young adult to help finish, and it was still tight. And the homeless ex-felon had taken a lot of my stuff (much WITH permission, and a number of special things WITHOUT permission), including the chef’s knife and sharpener my son (the chef) had gotten me for my birthday on his meager salary. And my jewelry, which admittedly was nothing special.

Now I possess only two pairs of earrings. No rings, bracelets, necklaces, broaches, anything.

It’s okay, really. I released everything. My goal was to be able to fit everything into the back of my car, along with my puppy and my daughter’s stuff. She had just graduated from high school, so we were going to hang out for the summer, find her some scholarships, and send her to college in August. She was already accepted to one she really liked.

We made the move. The first one, the planned one.

Two days later, she was in the ER with bronchitis. The place we were staying was unlivable. Personal stuff had happened over the past few months and had come to a head.

Politically, personally, spiritually, emotionally, and physically, we were being literally pushed out of…

Elizabeth Park

Life coach for the spiritually dehydrated, survivors of narcissistic abuse, and neurodivergent radicallifecoaching@gmail.com