Back in the Flow: Life, Work, and New Beginnings in Maine
The last time I wrote, I had just arrived in Maine, closing the chapter on my cross-country journey and opening a new one in my home state. And then… silence. No updates, no blog posts. Not because there wasn’t anything to say—if anything, there was too much. Every day has been full of settling in, reconnecting, learning, and figuring out what this new life actually looks like.
Now that I’m feeling more grounded, it’s time to pick up the thread again. The past few months have been about more than just unpacking boxes and adjusting to the cold. I’ve been rediscovering Maine through fresh eyes, jumping back into structured work, making new connections, and carving out the rhythms of daily life.
I may have paused my blogging, but the story never stopped.
Jumping Back into Development with Angel City Data
Working with Angel City Data has been a return to something familiar but also a big shift. I’ve spent the past several years working solo, building things on my own, setting my own deadlines, and handling every aspect of a project. Even when I was at Nickelodeon, I was largely self-directed. Now, I’m part of a team again, collaborating daily, and that dynamic has been an adjustment in the best way possible.
Joe, the lead developer I work with, has been an incredible mentor. He’s got a level of technical expertise that I deeply respect, and he’s also incredibly patient in guiding me through their systems and best practices. We check in regularly, bouncing ideas off each other, troubleshooting issues, and refining workflows. It’s bringing back so much of what I love about development—not just problem-solving, but doing it alongside other smart, passionate people.
A big part of this role has been sharpening skills I haven’t had to lean on for a while. Front-end design, scripting, database development—every day is a mix of familiar territory and re-learning. The work itself is deeply satisfying, but what’s been just as valuable is the structure. Twice-weekly team meetings give me a real sense of connection with my coworkers, even in a remote setting. We start each meeting by sharing something from our personal lives before diving into work updates. It keeps things human, which is important, especially in a team spread out across different locations.
One of the moments that really stuck with me was a conversation I had with my colleague, Deb. We were talking about how I’m adjusting, and I mentioned that managing ADHD and Bipolar II while getting back into full-time work has been its own challenge. She responded with nothing but understanding and support, even sharing her own experiences with neurodivergence. It made me realize that this is a workplace where people actually care about each other as individuals, not just as workers. That’s a rare thing, and it’s something I don’t take for granted.
Being back in structured client work after years of freelancing has reminded me of how much I enjoy this kind of environment. It’s busy, it’s engaging, and it keeps me on my toes. And at the same time, I’m feeling more capable every day.
Settling into Maine—The People, the Places, and the Unexpected
Coming back to Maine as an adult has been both familiar and completely different. The landscape, the people, the way of life—it’s all still here, but I’m seeing it through a different lens now. When I was younger, Maine was just where I was from. Now, it feels like a choice, a place I’ve deliberately returned to, and that shift in perspective makes everything feel more intentional.
One of the biggest surprises has been how much I’ve craved community since coming back. I know plenty of people here, but there have been moments of loneliness, which caught me off guard. Maybe it’s the stark contrast from being on the road, constantly meeting new people and seeing new places. Maybe it’s just part of the transition. Either way, I’ve been making an effort to put myself out there, to reconnect, and to build something new.
One of the best discoveries so far has been Maine Street in Ogunquit. Every Friday night, Luke and I drive down to this LGBTQ+ bar for a night of RuPaul’s Drag Race, karaoke, and pool. It’s quickly become our weekly ritual, a night where we can just relax and have fun. The bartender, John, already knows us, and the place has this welcoming, small-town feel where you start seeing the same faces week after week. It’s a totally different energy from San Diego’s LGBTQ+ scene, but I love it for what it is.
I’ve also been exploring Portland’s coffee shops, trying out different places to work from. There’s something about sitting in a bustling café with my laptop, surrounded by the sounds of conversations and espresso machines, that helps me focus. It’s part of my process now—rotating through different spots, finding my favorites, and making them part of my routine.
New Rituals, New Rhythms
If I could take my San Diego self on a day around Portland, I think he’d be pleasantly surprised. The day would start with brunch at The Friendly Toast, followed by a walk through the Old Port down to Bard Coffee, one of the best in the city. We’d stop by Portland Head Light, take in the rocky coastline, and then grab dinner in Falmouth before heading to Maine Street in Ogunquit for a night out.
That’s been one of the best parts of settling in here—building these new rituals.
Every Friday night, Maine Street.
Every week, a new coffee shop to work from.
Every now and then, a drive along the coast, just to take it all in.
Maine has a slower pace, but that’s not a bad thing. It gives me space to actually be present in my own life.
Living with Luke—A New Chapter in Our Friendship
Living with Luke has been one of the most rewarding parts of this transition. After traveling cross-country together, we already knew we could co-exist, but sharing a home has deepened our friendship in ways I didn’t expect.
One of our biggest bonding rituals? Watching Drag Race together. We’ve made it a goal to go through every season, offering commentary on the queens, the lip syncs, and the sheer chaos of it all.
Our routines mesh well, too. Luke works full-time, which means I have the apartment to myself during the afternoons to work. It’s a perfect balance—enough solo time to focus, but still having someone to share the day with when work is done.
Beyond just logistics, having someone in my corner during such a big life transition has meant everything. We’ve been able to process this move together—talking through the challenges, celebrating the wins, and figuring things out as we go.
Maine, Through a Different Lens
Maine isn’t just home—it’s an entirely new experience now. I notice things I didn’t before. I appreciate things that used to seem ordinary. The people, the community, the rhythm of life—it all feels richer.
But returning somewhere familiar isn’t the same as going back. I’m not the same person who left all those years ago, and Maine isn’t the same place I left behind. It’s not about picking up where I left off; it’s about carving out something new in a place that’s been waiting for me in its own way.
There’s a strange, beautiful contradiction in coming home: the comfort of familiarity and the exhilaration of rediscovery. Every street corner holds an old memory, yet every day I create something new. The echoes of the past are here, but they don’t define what’s next. That part is up to me.
This transition hasn’t been without its challenges—there have been moments of loneliness, of doubt, of wondering if I made the right move. But change isn’t about erasing discomfort; it’s about pushing through it, about learning to sit with uncertainty until it transforms into something else—something that feels like possibility.
What I do know is this: I’m where I’m supposed to be. The work I’m doing, the people I’m meeting, the rituals I’m creating—it all feels like the beginning of something bigger.
And maybe that’s the best part of all.
I’m not just coming home.
I’m building one.
