So yesterday at the Christmas Festival my memory card became full. I had to go back and quickly delete pictures so that I had room to continue recording clips of the kids' dances. Almost 75% of the memory card was full of pictures of you and us. It had been too hard for me to look at and delete before, but I had no choice, so I started quickly going through them. I knew I had them on my computer and on facebook, but had just felt wrong to delete them until I absolutely needed to.
As I was scrolling through and deleting in a rush, I came across one that made me pause. It was a picture of you at our pancake place. The one that puts bacon in your Bloody Marys. I had taken a bunch of pictures in a row of you showing me your pancake you'd created... and in one of them you'd put your guard down for a split second and I had captured that look you give me.
That secret, ineffable look that makes me feel like you're little spirit is looking through me and into my little spirit. That look that's so full of innocence and awe and pure love. That look that can make me immediately melt.
I did a double take and instinctively went to pass it but not delete it, fearing it would make me too sad to stare at it any longer. But a split second of reason later and I was back staring down at it, instead absolutely shocked by how much joy and clarity it brought me seeing you with that adorable, slightly goofy smile on your face.
A few days ago I skyped my mom and told her all about everything for the first time and her response was unlike anything I had expected. By the end of our conversation my entire perspective on everything that had been making me feel so small had dramatically been thrown on its head. Suddenly I no longer felt small and forgotten, but rather truly loved and oh-so-important. Suddenly I didn't feel like there was something intrinsically and inexplicably wrong with who I was, but rather extremely lucky and blessed for who I was.
It was an epiphany four and a half years in coming. Literally.
The more I thought about it, the more I it all made sense. And the more it all made sense, the more I saw everyone as innocent. And the more I saw everyone as innocent, the more light I felt.
Looking down at her happy little face in that picture from a day we were together this summer just doing what we do, I could see the authenticity and depth to that happiness and love and all at once I finally understood.
I admit the original impetus behind the epic trip I'm about to embark on was her decision not to visit me like we'd planned on for nearly a year. I was so hurt and so upset that I realized I needed to do something CRAZY. I needed to SOMEHOW make this the best thing that could have happened. I could either spend two weeks miserable, lonely and bitter at home or I could rally all of the sanguinity I had left in me and just do something amazing and absurd. I wanted it to be the grand gesture of "I DON'T NEED YOU - SEE WHAT I CARE IF YOU DITCH ME AND TRY TO REPLACE ME. GO FOR IT!"
Nothing motivates a girl like being hurt by the one person they care about more than anyone else. And as it turns out, this is not necessarily a bad thing. I gave myself until the weekend of my departure to fall apart and piece myself back together. I journaled a ton. I listened to a select few songs on repeat. I spewed my verbal and emotional diarrhea all over my poor but amazingly patient roommate. I talked to my parents. I let myself just feel however I felt like feeling when nobody was around.
To a certain extent, my fear was never that I wouldn't sort everything out and be happy again - my fear was always that I would. I'd always thought that being in love but being miserable was better than just not being in love. Little did I realize there was a third option; it sounds gushy and fluffy, but - loving yourself. I've taken the past four months to begin to figure out how to do just that. And let me just say, it's surprisingly tricky and takes a lot of patience and faith. A lot of music and good friends. A lot of Pinterest time and a lot of things to fill your time. A lot of quality conversations with your family. A lot of reading in your favorite book. A lot of asking your friend who's now somewhere busy being a spirit it he's still around and could help out. A lot of little kids who worship you - or, at least, it's helpful. ;)
After looking at that picture yesterday and feeling nothing but happiness and love looking at it, I realized I'm ready for this trip. It's no longer an adventure being embarked upon out of spite and hurt, but rather an adventure inspired by love and fearless autonomy. Researching all of the places I want to see, talking to all of the Couch Surfing hosts and friends I'm going meet, getting ready for the Glitter Ball - it's like my dream life. I was telling my dad about it last night and I could tell that he was proud of me and my upcoming journey. And it hit me just how crazy the whole thing is:
I've purchased five plane tickets. I have found five people I've never met to host me. I have printed maps upon maps planning my whole trip in four different countries. I have figured out how to take the worst thing to happen to me this semester and turn it into the most amazing and wonderful thing I've ever attempted.
T-26 hours.
Bring it.
XOXO
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