Interests:People, chocolate, life, and everything in between. Fireplaces and pumpkin pie spice, and those wonderful fall-ish things that are surrounding me at the moment. Thunderstorms and tornados, red leaves and crunchy sounds and stuttering sunlight and big comfortable sweatshirts and pants, and the smell of smoke, and knitting, tea in a special mug, and thick blankets and writing long stories in the lazy early evening. Come spring, I love daffodils and butterflies and lying in the grass for hours with the sun on my face and the wind in my hair and laughter cushioning the air around me. Twirling in the rain and jumping in puddles. Bubble baths and books and scented candles and oils and body spray. Expertise:Talking. . .a lot. Laughing and everything and nothing, and always managing to put in a sarcastic comment, whether the timing is appropriate or not. Occupation:Student Industry:Entertainment
I'm trying to keep a log of this experience, to remember it in detail, so that throughout other transitory times, I can review and realize that I'm normal. Perhaps this is an obsessive attempt at control that indicates that all is not as well as I think it is. We'll see. Forgive the intrinsically selfish nature of these next few posts. Hopefully I'll be able to post something more universally meaningful at some point soon.
So here, apparently, is where it hits. I almost cried today in a training video for work. The training video, shockingly enough, did not warrant any kind of emotion on my part. But there it was.
I suppose now is where my emotional reserves have been used up. Yet I'm not sure. It's not as though this has been terribly uncomfortable for me. I like my roommates, I like my landpeople, I like my classes, and my professors, and my classmates seem nice. My new job seems as though it will be enjoyable. In fact, on paper, this transition could not be going more smoothly.
So why am I spending a lot more time than I ought on Facebook, connecting, however briefly, to my past? Why are unhealthy coping mechanisms surfacing in my life? Tonight, as I talked to a dear friend, I kept saying, "Yeah, it's fine, and I'm fine," with a broken record quality. Even as my brain was agreeing with those words, my toneless repetition of the phrase rang hollow. Even the placement of the phrase was suspect. I told her, "Yeah, it looks like I can't go home for Christmas. I'm fine." I told her, "I'm so behind on homework, I already feel like I can't catch up. I'm fine." I told her, "Yeah, I haven't really made friends in my classes. But it's fine."
So my question is, how is life so simultaneously fine. . .and yet not? I have no room to be ungrateful. God has provided in every way that I've asked, and I really, truly have enjoyed this transition. I'm not kidding. I like being challenged; I have been incredibly blessed during what could have been a very difficult time, and on top of that, I like what I'm learning and I've been growing like that proverbial weed.
Thursday night I drove to Columbus OH (which was remarkable in and of itself) to stay with my friend Cate from Taylor. On Friday morning, I met with my dear friend Emily from BFA. On Friday afternoon/evening, I went to a rehearsal dinner for my friend Paul's wedding. I grew up with Paul in Turkey, and there were a ton of my Turkey friends there, as well as people from Turkey whom I haven't seen in 10+ years.
Saturday was Paul's wedding and Turkey friend overload (in a purely positive sense), and my friend Julia from Taylor joined us at Cate's house. On Monday, I drove to Fort Wayne in the company of Rat, whom I consider a kid sister, from BFA, and met Michele a former/present mentor and dear friend from BFA.
In other words, as I struggled to explain to Michele, different facets of myself have collided in the past several days.
It was so, so, so good.
It was also ached so, so, so much.
I thought I was impervious to such pain, as I possess the uncanny ability to live in the moment and ignore the past when I would like to, but I think this was a little much even for me. While driving home from goodbyes to my Turkey friends on Saturday night, I was struck by how deeply I love that group of people (I realized that around the time when the tears started dripping down my nose).
I also realized how much I've taken some of my Taylor friends for granted as I sat on Cate's front porch unwrapping Julia's birthday gift to me (the "What To Expect When You're Expecting" gift set. She was there the fateful day at the thrift store when I opened that volume and had to run outside to gag).
And I was blessed by the fact that I could pick up with BFA friends right where we left off, in some cases years ago.
Emotion isn't always easy to quantify, and I'm finding all my powers of conversation to be inadequate to explain the odd lump that has taken up residence in my chest when I think about this weekend. It seems most closely to contain a mixture of joy and pain and a few other unidentifiable feelings that want to find release in both laughter and tears.
I'm still looking forward, with most of my energy focused on preparing for South Carolina in 5 weeks, but this weekend was a good opportunity to stop, breathe, remember, and ponder how blessed I am to have such great people in my life. . .and what a blessing it is that leaving them is so difficult.
"Great is Thy faithfulness" has been my theme song during the past few days. Today I took my final undergraduate final and turned in the last paper I ever wrote as an undergrad.
I went through my Taylor network drive and left a somewhat depressing amount of the last four year's assignments behind. I cleaned out my Taylor email address. I walked out of a class with a crush and refused to look back (Booyah!). I began the process of mentally and emotionally saying good-bye and moving on.
This transition is different than any I've had before. For one of the first times, I've decided to take control of this situation. Sure, I'm being "kicked out" in the conventional sense of "my money is gone, so I can't stay." But more to the point, I'm leaving because it's time. I have grown a lot here; if I stayed, I would probably continue to grow. But it's time to move on. Once I accept that foundational fact, I can redirect my energies from "I wish I could stay" to "How can I leave well? What lessons will I carry with me? What is the next step?"
I'm also trying to deal with the sadness well. Fact: I'm leaving a place where I have been happy, and people whom I love. That's a part of life that makes me sad. Even more important fact: I have been blessed beyond measure to have come here, and I will rejoice in that. I'm not denying the sadness; it's there. But instead of focusing on the negative, I'm trying to wrap my mind around the good times, the relationships, and the growth I've experienced. I'm trying to leave grateful, understanding that I'm only sad because this time was so good, and understanding also that this will not be the only good time I ever experience. I'm leaving with a relationship with a good and loving God, and "He who has God and everything has no more than he who has God alone." Thank you, Clive Staples Lewis. I'm leaving with memories, with friends who were good for the time and friends who will be good for all time (that isn't meant to sound as callous as it probably does).
Thank you, my readers, for pushing me and sharpening me and pointing me toward God over the past four years (or in some cases, even longer!). You have been great--and I hope that you, too, will stick with me as I move to Columbia International University (provided I'm accepted, of course) in the fall.
On another note, though I've been somewhat frightened about the transition to adulthood, I killed a spider all by myself the other day. I feel with that demonstration of courage, I've earned at least a partial adult card.
