Moving to a small Iowa town (population under 10,000) felt like stepping back into high school - where cliques formed, outsiders were judged, and support was hard to come by. I dropped out back then because I couldn’t stand the bullying and toxic energy, and in many ways, that same atmosphere lingers here. People are wary of anything or anyone unfamiliar - if they notice you at all - and I felt that as soon as I arrived. My move to Iowa was inspired by love and a romanticized vision of small-town life - a place where neighbors gathered, community thrived, and I’d find my place. Instead, I found a downtown that had seen better days and tight-knit circles that are still difficult to penetrate. But I came here to grow my family, my career, my community, and as an individual.
I invested everything - my money, time, and energy - into this community, even drawing on the support of those who believed in me. I saw, and still see, my town as the greatest blank slate, where anything is possible. When my business didn’t work out, it stung and the public humiliation was real. But my biggest supporter reminded me that their investment wasn’t about expecting a return - it was about a shared belief in something greater. And that belief is always worth it, right? Failure is always a risk, and I am quite OK with that.
When I first arrived, I took up work as a newspaper reporter. A former coworker and I, both empaths, once bonded over the emotional toll of working in journalism. We empathized deeply with the people in our stories - whether it was tornadoes, car accidents, or covering city meetings where honest reporting often got labeled as “fake news.” The weight of small-town connectedness can be both comforting and burdensome.
During a recent lunch, she said, “I’m surprised you’re still here.” It wasn’t meant as an insult, just an observation. Staying here has been a choice - a commitment to my son’s education and to a place that’s been largely positive for us. We have a solid school system where kids can be involved in almost anything. We also have a city where you can do anything, if you put your heart and energy in to it.
I don’t even want to know what the current median home price is in San Diego, but I never imagined I’d own a home or a business, or even run for public office, as I have done in Iowa. And though those ventures didn’t work out as I’d hoped, the fact that they were even possible still amazes me. In my hometown, a city of more than a million people, those opportunities would have been out of reach for me. But here, in this small rural town, I’ve been able to dream big and take bold steps. Running for office gave me the chance to knock on every door in my ward, twice - something that would have been impossible back home, where each council person represents an average of 150,000 residents. Here, there’s a real chance to connect deeply with people, if you’re willing to put in the effort and keep an open mind.
Living in a small town brings opportunities you won’t find elsewhere. Yes, there’s suspicion, and yes, people can be closed off. But there’s also room for gardens, buildings calling to become places of gathering, and the ability to truly impact the community. What I’ve come to realize is that in a place this size, my help seems to make a greater impact. Whether it’s volunteering at the Creston Arts Center or just being a good neighbor, the work I put in feels like it ripples further than in the coastal town I grew up in. I feel like I can make a difference here - we all can. And, that’s why I stay.
Your community is lucky to have you, and I hope they’re appreciative. I also hope that Iowa’s education lives up to your expectations given the recent changes.
Yes, you wrote it all so beautifully! But you will always be my Cali baby girl. 🌊🏄🌴🌴☀️🌊⛱️🏖️