🌅 Move is over: Finally - A Fresh Start in Arizona
Moving to Arizona has already given me more gifts than I expected. Every morning I wake up to the most incredible skies — the kind of sunrises that make the whole world look like it’s on fire with color. At night, the sunsets wrap everything in gold and pink, and the mountains in the distance seem to glow. I find myself stepping outside just to breathe it in, and every time it reminds me that life is still worth celebrating.
One of the joys has been walking with Nicky. She loves exploring here — the palm trees fascinate her, the cactus “statues” make her curious (don’t worry, she keeps a safe distance!), and the two of us are finding little routines in our new neighborhood. Even at 4 in the morning, when it’s still dark, the desert air feels fresh and welcoming. Those early walks matter to me more than most people would guess. With Trigeminal Neuralgia, I can’t always plan my days around big outings or errands — pain has a way of rearranging everything. But in the stillness of dawn, when the desert air is cool and quiet, I can move at my own pace. That’s freedom I don’t take for granted.
There’s been so much healing already. The dry air has eased my pain in ways I didn’t think possible. I’m down to half the medication I needed back in Connecticut, and I feel a strength returning that I had forgotten was even there. That shift changes everything. With TN, even small tasks like brushing my teeth or eating a meal can feel like a lightning storm under my skin. Here, those storms aren’t as constant. It’s like the desert is giving me back pieces of myself — little pockets of energy that I can put toward living, not just surviving.
And the storms! Arizona storms are magical — wild winds that roll in fast, sudden rain that feels like a blessing. Nicky and I sometimes get caught outside when it starts, and we run back inside laughing. The monsoon nights are full of energy, and even though the humidity isn’t my favorite, the spectacle is worth it. The funny thing is, storms in my body have often mirrored storms outside — the unpredictable flashes of TN pain that hijack a day without warning. Watching the desert storms, though, I’ve started to see beauty in the chaos. They pass. They always pass.
We also just finished the last stage of the move — our things finally came! It feels like another piece of the transition clicking into place. A lot of items I was told had been tossed or “lost” actually made it here, which was a mix of surprise and relief. Honestly, I’m still confused at the thought process behind some of the choices: 1,500 highlighters came through safely, but my medications and several brand-new appliances didn’t make the cut. 🤷🏻‍♀️ But alright — we’ll make do with what we have to start with. What that really means with TN is that “making do” sometimes takes a little more creativity. When pain makes simple tasks harder, the right tools matter so much. Losing medications or appliances isn’t just inconvenient — it’s the kind of thing that can tip the balance between a manageable day and an impossible one. So seeing what did arrive has been both a relief and a reminder: I can build forward from here, even if I don’t have every piece I expected.
Most of all, I feel hopeful here. Hopeful that I can build my art, hopeful that I can create a peaceful home, hopeful that this move really was the fresh start I needed. Every day feels like an invitation to keep growing, and that is a gift I’ll never stop being grateful for.
With Love,
Elfy & Nicky
