I’m going through a break up.

After a decade of unconditionally loving and championing life in Miami, my feelings changed. It was a slow burn in the belly that rose through my ribs, chest and neck until I could deny it no longer.

I was in absolute love with Miami, and then I just wasn’t. 

Our demise had crept its way up my spine for some time before I could openly acknowledge it. Four years ago, as I sat crouched on my slightly stained-with-tea Ikea couch, knees hugged into my chest, inhaling a sweet, toxic drag of an American Spirit (shortly before I quit for good, after 20 years of indulging, and then not, and then indulging again, in cigarettes, whose long-term presence have now graced my eyes, mouth and forehead) I felt a tingle deep in my abdomen. London. What would it be like to livethere? 

Not sure where the thought came from, I exhaled out my window into the heady South Beach air as bicyclists pedaled down the street, no helmets, racing to beat the light on my corner before turning red. I buried the curiosity down to the pit of my stomach, not wanting to entertain the thought for too long.

Thoughts like this, I knew from experience, are dangerous. Thoughts like this are indicators of a major crack in my personal matrix. I wasn’t ready to face such a consideration at that moment. 

So I quelled the notion of London. Too cold, too anglo, too english, too expensive. And I carried on. But deep in my heart I knew exactly what that shift indicated and sooner or later I’d be forced to answer the call.

I continued loving Miami to the best of my ability. For all the cliche reasons like the weather, the beach, the gorgeous people, the ease of my scooter life and the adoration I felt for the community in which I was engaged. The “Only in Dade” Instagram accounts that caressed topics only Miamiams could understand. 

I gripped tightly to my perception of Miami corruption, politics, Spanglish, cafe Cubano… I knew it and I understood it and I was part of it. I also loved Miami for deeper reasons: the confidence I felt with tanned skin and skimpy clothes, the pride I felt when a foreigner asked where I lived, the stunning nature I witnessed every day and the dazzling, striking sunsets that painted the sky after a good rain. I loved the healthy lifestyle and the woman I grew into while living there. 

After all, Miami was my longest chosen relationship.

These attachments outweighed the stress I felt. Constantly being strapped for cash, rising costs, sun spots on my skin, a difficult dating scene, lack of creative inspiration. That seemingly concrete ceiling that continuously bruised the top of my tender head as I tried, unwittingly, to break through despite the awareness that there was no opportunity for me beyond.

Eventually, a variety of factors blinded me into recognition that Miami was suppressing me. I was stuck, I was stagnant. My once passionate, vulnerable love affair with this gitzy, sexy city was now turning me to stone. 

This realization tucked me into myself. As I have plenty of times in the past, I turned to yoga. Night after night I cried on my mat, giving permission to myself to allow the most uncomfortable, raw feelings to move through my body and to my surface. The more I allowed their release, the lighter I became.

I became so light that the act of moving, both physically and geographically, felt smooth and easy. Taking myself, my suitcase and my cat to Mexico was nearly effortless. And all the time, as hard as it was emotionally, I knew it was right.

The controversy that stares at me now, unblinkingly, is my upcoming return to Miami.

I haven’t properly closed this chapter. In a lot of ways, I just fled the scene. Ghosted, if you will. On Wednesday, I’ll be forced to confront that fact. It feels heavy, guilt-ridden and sad. I have to break it off, in person.

How do you face an ex-lover? How do you explain to both of you that your relationship is too broken to fix?

Miami I will always love you. Your warmth and your vibrancy, your colors and your sex-appeal. You have charm, you have spice, you have glamor. You’re artsy and colorful, a kaleidoscope of languages and a sea of breathtaking beauty. There is nowhere in the world that compares. 

Maybe we will rekindle someday, try it long-term again. I hope that we do. But for now, I have to stay true to my heart, and my heart tells me that this isn’t working anymore.

Adios Miami.

But I will visit. And when I do, you can find me on the beach. In a red bikini & a floppy hat. With a cafecito. And La Sandwicherie.

With love, 

Bethany