Fresh. New. Vibrant and colorful. In a way that when I look around I think to myself, this world and this life is yours, darling. Make it happen! It's why I love mornings so much: to some people every sun rise is the same, but I honestly never know what I'm going to get as my make my thrice-weekly trek from the suburbs to the city. Somehow I manage to get this kinds of snapshots, either by luck or by knowing how to capture a beautiful moment when I see it.
And that has served me well since moving back: despite not living with my parents and being away from my best friends (along with everything that I've come to know since I was eighteen), I can still confidently say that life is awesome. Life is awesome and God is good.
I love the environment that I'm in; it's not only healthy, but it gives me the space and ability to focus on both my goals and who I am as a person. My therapist is great and working with her has uncovered a lot of aspects about myself that I didn't know existed. Keeping a journal and having quiet time has done wonders, which is why I've come to cherish spending time alone.
My relationships are getting stronger: through the discovery of FaceTime (I kind of find that a lot easier to use than Skype), I can keep in touch with friends and still actually see them, despite being hundreds. at times thousands of miles apart. I'm slowly building individual, adult connections with each of my parents; this past weekend was the first weekend I spent with them since August.
I'm enjoying my internship and slowly making my way into the working world. I'm very much a city girl and every time I go there, part of me just lights up! I'm also getting involved in a church and connecting with other people, which has allowed a lot of spiritual growth and finding a sense of faith that I wasn't sure I was going to have again.
And then there are days when life feels like this:
Foggy. Unpredictable and filled with more unknowns than I can count. It's as though the world says You can do anything...as long as you have money. And not that money wasn't a concern before, as demonstrated by the student lones that need repaying. Despite that, I do not regret one dollar that I invested in the last four years; I learned a lot more that went above and beyond what was required to get my degree, and for that I make no apologies.
Nor will I do so for saying that I miss college. It wasn't about the weekend fanfare or the difference in responsibilities, but about the community. It was about the beauty in the smallest of moments that have stayed with me to this very day, and probably will for the rest of my life. Those moments which in turn bore traditions, conversations, and friends that eventually became family. I'm grateful that I took the time to savor it, along with having the ability to do so.
And I get that every transition comes with a variety of changes, but it still makes me wonder if such changes have to be so isolating. Why did one part of my life seem to be filled with magic and endless possibilities, while this one appears to come with an endless roll of red tape? I'm in the process of trying to do things for myself that will ultimately allow me to be somewhat independent without feeling like I'm constantly draining my bank account. Yet, it's as though whoever came up with those concepts made it purposefully difficult to get access to them.
I'm growing. I'm learning. But I only have so much energy, emotionally or physically. It makes me wish (or beg) for my brain to be quiet at night so I can stop having nightmares. (More so, now that I know why I have them, I wish they would stop all together). If I had a choice I would fix myself up tomorrow and call it a day. I don't like being afraid to be vulnerable. I hate living in fear that trust will only result in abandonment. Greater is the fear that all of those things will keep me from truly experiencing life and love. I know that it breaks the hearts of friends and family members to see me like this: desperately trying to break out of a mold that has done more harm than good. A mold that started with the best of intentions but had completely different results.
I experience guilt for not going to church every Sunday since moving back. I genuinely want to connect and be involved, but yet I feel guilty about asking for rides or having to explain that I haven't quite found a groove yet. This definitely warrants its' own post, but going to church again is still a little scary.
Both of these images are different, yet one thing in common: they are filled with light. Some days reflect different shades, different colors, different seasons. Yet there is still light; and where there is light, there is hope. Hope that I don't have to wait on time to make life easier or better, but instead be able to rise above my circumstances and make healthy choices for myself. It frees me to fully trust in where God is taking me, though I don't really know where I'm going right now (Psalm 142: 3).
This is the light that I not only see before me, but the kind that I pray that others will see in me.
I envision being able to look back at this season in my life and not necessarily laugh, but realize there was a reason for it. What that reason is, I'm not trying to find out anytime soon. I'm content in waiting to see it when I'm meant to.
What I do know is that I am taken care of, and I will be OK.