One Year Ago

One year ago, I started this blog with the intention of documenting my journey from quitting my job to moving halfway across the country. At the time, I thought I would only write here until I got to Colorado, but then I realized that the description of my blog "a blog about finding the strength to start all over again" is something I do nearly on a daily basis- not necessarily on the same scale as the massive uprooting I did last August, but each morning I wake up is, to some degree, a new beginning.

Every day I get to make decisions that will direct the course of my future. 

Every day, every moment, we have the ability to evaluate our lives, our actions, our selves, and assess whether it is something we can be proud of, or if we need to redirect. So often we get into the mentality that we've gotten too far into something to start over, but that's rarely ever true. My 66 year old father, after over 30 years in one career, is now exploring other paths.

So one year into reclaiming control and responsibility over my life, I can say that it has been incredibly lonely and challenging at some points, but the payoffs have only just begun. As we close out another year, I challenge us all to take a look at our lives and our selves and ask, "Am I proud of who I am and what I've done, or do I need to find the strength to start all over again?"

And if you're proud of where you are, find the strength you need to never stop learning and growing.

I said it before I left, and I say it now, I am finally proud of what I'm doing and where I'm going. 

When There's No Going Back

I've been home for 9 days now. It's a strange mix of feeling comforted by the familiar and sad that what I used to be so much a part of, I am now becoming an increasingly vague memory. I knew that would happen. Such is the nature of leaving- the spaces you once filled must necessarily be filled with something or someone else.

Some of them, anyway. There are a precious few spaces that I know will contain only me no matter how long I am gone from them. One of those spaces I am currently inhabiting, literally and figuratively, as I write this entry.

Family and home have always been elusive concepts for me; I've never really felt as though I belonged anywhere. My most comfortable place still possesses an element of disengagement because at the heart of it, I know it's not mine. This home welcomes me with open arms and hearts each time I come back, and here is where I take refuge from the rest of the world now that I don't have my own space, but when it's all said and done, I will depart and their lives will be unaffected that I'm gone; as it should be.

But I can't help but want something of my own- something that subconsciously brings a smile to my face because I know it's where I'm meant to be. That something could be a career, a place, a hobby, a passion... something that belongs with me and me with it.

A few days ago, I received an email in Korean text from my biological father. I plugged it into Google Translate (I know, I know- that does a horrible job, but it gives at least some inkling as to what he's said) and he apparently made some reference to when they gave me up. I've received a few like that before, but this time it felt different- it was frustrating and left me feeling as though a giant chunk of my identity is tied up in another country in a language I don't understand... because it is. It's strange to think that there are people out there who are intimately tied to me biologically, and I can't even have a small talk conversation with them. They wanted me to be sent to a country where I would stick out- where I would know I didn't belong so I would find them one day. Their plan worked- I did find them, and in turn, opened a whole different level of searching for meaning in family, home, and belonging.

Which brings me back to now. Part of me wonders if my search for somewhere to belong is the result of nearly 29 years of knowing I was sent to a place where I would perpetually stick out. In some ways, I'm lucky because without that sense of displacement, I don't know that I would have been driven to travel as much as I have or been as adamant about how important it is to live in a way that makes sense to me, even if everyone else thinks it's crazy.

People have asked me if I regret any of the choices I've made (like quitting my job), and for me, it seems like a pointless question because my choices were made and consequences are playing out. I can't go back and change what I did in the past, and frankly, I wouldn't want to. Of course I'm anxious sometimes because of all of the unknowns I invited into my life, but I also invited infinite opportunity. For example, I know that if I wouldn't have moved to Colorado, my search into my identity wouldn't have the depth it does now. I have no idea where that will lead, but I can only imagine a positive outcome.

(A Few) Things I Learned the Last 3 Months

After 3 incredibly long but fast-moving months, I'm going back to the place where the journey all began. I'm going back for a break, to rest, to sleep, to eat, to train, to enjoy being who and what I am without every.single.thing.I.say.and.do being weighed, analyzed, and judged. 

I'm going back to the place I hated for so long to find my safe place because many of my safe places are contained in human form; in the faces of my friends and family who are there waiting for my return. Sometimes, you have to leave a place to find what you love about it. 

  

That said, for those who are wondering, I have no plans to move back to PA anytime soon. I've realized how much I value and miss those whom I love, but I still have yet to find what I left seeking. Sounds pretty vague, huh? I know, and I can assure you, it's as frustrating for me as it may be for you. But in the words of Steve Jobs, "as with all matters of the heart, you'll know it when you find it." I don't know exactly what I'm looking for- I just know I had to leave to find it, whatever "it" is... a job, an adventure, a love, a new way of living.... the possibilities are endless. Maybe I'll find all of them. 

Another thing I have discovered is that my obsession with travel wasn't confined only to daydreams within my cube walls. My mind still wanders to far off places and dreams of meeting new people and learning how they live, work, eat, celebrate, mourn, and play. I imagine staring into vast blue oceans, exploring dirty dusty streets, climbing terrifyingly high mountains, and taking in views that would take my breath away while redefining how I perceive myself and my place in the world. 

For now, I have no big trips planned. My only focus is to go home to see my family. "Home" and "family" have also taken on new meanings as I hear the students' stories and re-analyze my own. Generic as it may sound, home has nothing to do with the location, and everything to do with the people.  Family isn't only about who gave birth to you, or necessarily even who raised you or who grew up with you- it's who holds your heart and you theirs. It's who loves you without pretense, without inhibition, and with everything they have. 

I'm going home to see my family.

Escape from the Cube

Slight deviation from my regular posting...

Check out my photobucket story about my escape from the cube to the mountains!

From Windowless Cube to Wide Open Spaces

Sad for No Good Reason

My friends' friend died this morning from a heart attack. I was not close to this man, but so many of my friends were... and here I sit in the Colorado mountains wishing I could be with them while they grieve.

This month also marked the 4th year since a good friend from high school died. She got her license first and helped teach me how to drive when I was 16. She called me randomly throughout the years to tell me about everything that was happening in her life. The last time we talked she said, "I have so much to tell you."

The next time I received a call from her phone, it was the guy she was seeing telling me he found her face down in his couch. She had overdosed leaving behind her baby girl.

Sometimes, my sadness doesn't know how to reconcile with the loss. I don't know how to deal- how to be consistently ok. Sometimes I just want to fall apart and cry uncontrollably. I miss them all so much that I want to scream my own existence into the universe.

When my friends grieve, I remember what it feels like to feel as though the life has been kicked out of you... to feel as though you can't breathe even though you're sure you can. But maybe you can't...

Here I sit in the Colorado mountains, and I remember why I've been making the decisions I have for the last several months.

Life is unpredictable. And sometimes, it's unpredictably short.

I am living this way because my moments are numbered, and I don't know the count.

Here's to you- all of you who I miss so much.

2ish days and nights in the wilderness

Friday afternoon I set out with our 5 graduates and the wilderness fellow, in what was at one point 16 degree weather, to complete the last camping trip during their time at Eagle Rock. The freezing temperatures made me want to cry. I realized on this trip that I am not a camper. At least, not a winter camper. Surrounded by super outdoorsy people, for awhile I felt guilty about my lack of exuberance for all things camping, but then remembered it's ok to not love everything. Not only do I not love camping in the freezing cold, I flat out hate it. There. I said it.

This weekend was a challenge, not only because of  how the cold affects me physically, but because of what that kind of cold triggers in me psychologically and emotionally. There are ghosts that still haunt me in the cold darkness.

Now that that's out of the way, I must say, I do love spending time with my students. They made every bitter cold moment worth it through their corny jokes, intelligent insights and opinions, and especially when they grabbed my hand to help me when I was having trouble finding my footing. They kept me going- literally and figuratively. 

Making the trek up Bone Pipe.

Mimi helped me up the rocks.

I love these girls (Sandra, Yesenia, Mimi).

Yesenia bundling up.

Eliza, the wilderness fellow, making breakfast

and Jharid who waited for me when I was slow

hiking down. 

Looking off the top of Bone Pipe into the white out.

Taber relaxing on the rock.

In spite of being in a state of perpetual cold, I couldn't help but be amazed by the environment around me. Sublime beauty seems unreal. Mountain filled landscapes appear to be a painting. A night sky gorged with brilliant stars seems like a backdrop, that is, until you gaze so intensely into the infinite space that you can no longer doubt the depth of its profound existence- and in some small way, begin to recognize your own. Under the cloak of bright moonlight, I began to understand the insignificant significance of my place in this world. Ghosts and all.

Someday This Pain Will Be Useful to You

I would have never believed it a few years ago. Even as I write this, there is still some element of disbelief as I wonder, "Has all of my heartache finally amounted to something useful?"

For the first time in my life, even some of the most obscure lessons I learned without thinking about it (like learning little bits of Arabic during a tumultuous relationship years ago), have found a niche in this tiny community in which I now reside. My loss, my pain, and my fear are all receiving closure in finding a purpose. 

I spent many years bitter, frustrated, depressed, and angry because I had no idea why it seemed that I had been handed the royal flush of shitty cards. I watched as other people my age and years younger started families, successful businesses, and changed the world at dizzying speeds while I struggled just to get out of bed some days. I often felt useless and completely defeated. How could I or my life ever amount to anything when from the time I was born, it seemed that my existence was a mistake?

 But here in this time and place, it somehow all makes sense. 

That's not to say that I've arrived, or that I don't have days when I wonder what the bloody fucking purpose of it all is, but after nearly 3 decades, I can say with genuine sincerity that I'm grateful that I was broken so many times because without that, I wouldn't have learned to be strong. 

I can't even begin to speculate what the rest of this year holds in store, but I can say that in only 2 months, these people have already changed my life in ways I will likely not fully understand until hindsight opens my eyes years down the road.