It has taken me over a year to find a reason to write; I do not take comfort in that fact.
Life hit me hard in 2017 and everything I indulged in – travel, writing, drinking, backpacking, partying, everything – was an attempt to dull the pain and work through the emotional scars of my past. But, alas, they were only scars, forever my burden to carry as identifies, marks on my soul, creators of character, battle wounds, proofs of life…
I’m back now… and I feel alive. Morning do not come quick enough just as the evenings feel too short. I’ve shared my story dozens of times, taking ownership of my past, and now I feel ready to share it for the miraculous adventure that it is. I’ve attempted to write the story countless times, but it’s always felt too close. However, everything seems different now. I am ready to move on to the next chapter – the next phase of my ever-growing ever-loving life is quickly approaching – grad school, L.A., my growing business, city life – realized.
So, what can you expect in the coming weeks? A tale of betrayal, death, love, life, loss, and all the color that comes with the most human experiences we all deal with at some point or another. I’m excited to bring you on this journey with me. I’m excited to write my story – and see where it takes my writing. I’m excited to share it with the world.
Next Week: Chapter 1 – Death of a Father
There’s not much more to say than I’m off – and knowingly unready for this big adventure, excitedly. I’ve toiled with the thought of meaning and intent the past few days, trying to build more into my trip – only to realize that meaning is not a manifestation of thought, but of action and interaction. That makes me excited; to think that I must stumble upon my trip as it stumbles upon me.
The night before departure was tough. I found myself tossing and turning in anticipation. I’m still not sure if it was nervousness or excitement, probably a healthy dose of both. All I knew was the dense knot in my stomach that wouldn’t go away. It subsided upon landing in LAX – the first point of inconvenient return.
The final hours prior to departure were a sprint – a byproduct of some healthy procrastination. I had to register my finicky GPS, get an international phone – which turned into buying a new mobile, purchase insurance, pack my home for the next seven months, color coordinate my many shades of grey, get some last-minute work done (yay), play around with the video editing software long enough to be considered a novice, and of course – say goodbye.
Luckily, I had some much needed help from the wisest woman I know. A woman who once told me that work extends into the amount of time available. How right she was… is, dammit. At least I can say I get by with a little help from my friends.
I was sad to say goodbye to my family. I know when I see them again they won’t be the same, nor will I. 2018 is promising to be a year of immense transition – and like ripping off a bandaide it will hurt initially even if in search of a better tomorrow. I look forward to growing on this trip but know I will return a little less childish and a lot less immature. A healthy transition but irreversible, and thus – slightly melancholic; however, exciting nonetheless. This is a much needed and wanted transition.
Shout-out to my grandma who turned 95 on February 8th! Love you Peggy.