Yesterday afternoon, I found myself on the edge of a decision — should I go meet a friend as planned, or reschedule? A part of me really wanted to stay in, but I told myself, “Let’s just do it.” So I headed out, only to realize I might be late. I texted my friend, and she was super chill about it: “No worries.” I wasn’t super excited, but I drove off toward Berkeley anyway.

When I parked near Berkeley Public Library, I realized… oops, I didn’t really pay attention to how far it was from our meet-up spot — and also, I forgot to take my ADHD meds. I had a little “oh shoot” moment but gave myself a pep talk and decided to keep going. Luckily, I found a closer parking spot and walked to where we were meeting. There she was, sitting near a tree. My thoughts were spinning, but I paused, took a breath, smiled at her, and gave her a hug.

We started walking and both said, “Wow, this is really cool!” She was so excited to show me around — turns out, we were in her hometown where she grew up. I felt honored. She led me to this fair celebrating Indian culture, and it was so lively and beautiful. Then came the emotional gut punch — everything around me reminded me of Jenna. These kinds of cultural events were our thing. Triggers were everywhere.

Still, I stayed present. My friend and I talked deeply about relationships — the ones we’ve had, the hurt, the confusion. I opened up about my own pattern of lying — something I learned to do growing up to survive, to “save face.” I told her I’ve been working hard to unlearn that, to be more honest about what I need and who I am. We talked about empathy, compassion, and the need to see things from different angles — with respect.

Eventually, we decided to leave the fair and go check out the rose garden. That hit me hard. Another trigger. Jenna and I used to go there to unwind. But… triggers are gonna be everywhere. I can’t avoid them forever. So we went.

But right before we got to the garden, we saw a dog locked in a car with the windows barely open. It was crying, whining, baking in the sun. My heart broke. I said something, and she agreed. I asked if we should call the police. Her phone was low on battery, so I handed her mine. She made the call.

We stood there, unsure if we should wait or go. We walked to the rose garden, but neither of us could stop thinking about that poor dog. So we walked back — and the car was gone. Hopefully, they left or parked somewhere better. We were both relieved.

Then she asked if I had a dog, and I told her I did — but she passed away in 2023. I admitted I’m really sensitive when it comes to animals. She smiled and said, “Well, you’re Buddhist, right?” I smiled back and said, “Yeah.” She remembered. It hit me — this person really listens. Like, actually listens. And I appreciated that so much.

We kept walking and talking. We saw a weird fruit on a tree, and she asked what it was. I had no clue, so I dared her to try it. She did — took a bite, said it was sweet and sour, and tossed it away. We cracked up.

Eventually, it was time to go. We walked back to my car, and I offered her a ride home. She said sure, since it was nearby. When she got in, she was like, “Whoa! This car is spotless!” I laughed and told her, “Yup, I’m OCD — everything tidy, always.” I even offered her a wet wipe and she was like, “Of course you have wet wipes!” She smiled and said she actually liked that about me. That felt nice.

I dropped her off and said, “Have a good night. Thank you — I really enjoyed this.” She said, “Me too! Let’s do it again.” And I said, “Yes, definitely.”

On the way home, it hit me — this is a good start. It’s okay to move forward. It’s okay to let go. It’s okay to appreciate new people. To face your triggers. To change. To be real. It’s not easy, but it’s something. I’m learning to embrace the uncomfortable and just… keep going.

---

Reflection Questions:

• When was the last time you chose to show up even when you didn’t feel like it? How did it turn out?
• What are some emotional “triggers” you’ve bumped into recently? How did you handle them?
• Are there patterns you grew up with that you’re now trying to unlearn?
• Who in your life actually listens — like, really hears you? Have you told them you appreciate it?
• What does “moving on” look like for you right now?
• In what ways are you learning to accept change, even when it’s painful?
• What’s one moment recently where you felt like you were making progress, even if it was small?