Horizons.

I knew when I came on this crazy adventure that I would encounter many obstacles, many new changes, many new people. But I guess I never truly realized how much I would learn about myself. I mean, here I am, a 30 year old…woman? (gasp)…and for as much as I analyze my life (it’s a disease I tell you), I don’t think I ever truly got to know…me.

The last few weeks have been a serious trial for me. Those of you reading along are probably well aware of the emotional toll. But all life experiences are given to us for a reason. You can choose to hide away (trust me, that was an appealing option) and ignore the reason or you can chose to learn and grow. It’s very tempting to just move through life without feeling or caring about anything. I could probably become a very successful person if I stopped worrying about everyone else in my life. But then I wouldn’t be me.

I’m starting to find myself, which is completely and utterly terrifying and yet fantastically exciting. I’m learning that I can’t keep trying to depend only on myself, that I need people in my life to keep me afloat. My friends and family are there for me, just like I am there for them. Laying my problems on them is not a burden. People actually seem happy when I go to them for help. People don’t lose faith in you just because you lose faith in yourself. The good ones help you find it again.

I’m starting to see a deeper spiritual side to life. There is so much beauty in the world that we take for granted, so much around us to appreciate. It’s really hard to maintain a negative attitude when you see this in the morning:

Kristin snapped this from our porch the morning of a physio exam

I have to believe there is a reason; there is meaning to my being here. The people I encounter on my path, I touch their lives for a reason as much as they touch mine. I want to be the best person I can be, I want to be remembered fondly when I am gone.

I’ve become obsessed with the night sky. In the States, there are so many lights at night I rarely see more than a handful of stars. I never understood the meaning of “a blanket of stars” until living here. It’s amazing. The night sky is inky black and there are billions of stars of all sizes literally blanketing the sky. During my particularly bad weeks, I took to going outside and just standing there, getting lost in those stars. The Little Dipper in particular is of comfort, not sure why. I know it sounds stupid, but when I was a kid that was my favorite constellation. And it was so rare to find it in Tampa. But in these last few weeks that constellation has been front and center every night. Even when it’s cloudy, I look up and it’s there poking through a hole in the clouds. I like to think that it knows I need comfort, so it makes itself available as often as possible so that no matter what when I look in the sky it is there just for me.

I have a deeper appreciation for family. My parents have been by my side every step in my life. My first time away at camp, as a gawky little 12 year old, and my mother was there making my bed (you should always make your bed before you do anything else, that’s her motto). My first big dance, dad redressed my boyfriend so I wouldn’t look overdressed next to him. And while that mortified me at the time, I think both Benji and I look back at that night with fondness. My first car accident, a terrifying experience, and my dad was there front and center taking charge – despite the shock that he must have felt seeing the damage. My first day at college, again my mother immediately makes my bed. I know it sounds silly, but she is completely right – if everything else in your life is in turmoil, at least you have a nice clean bed to sleep in. Perhaps that’s why when I visit people’s rooms here, I immediately start to smooth the covers and fluff the pillows. Those first few months after I graduated college and moved back to Tampa, when I had no job and no friends and I was in a really low place, my parents were there every night calling and feeding me and taking me out. My dad was there with the perfect words when I got fired from my first major job. Both of them supported me when I decided to change careers, and then when I decided to go back to school. And when I was frustrated with the application process for vet school, neither of them let me quit. When I presented them with the idea of going off to a vet school outside the US, I think they were both equally excited and saddened. And days before I left (probably because she couldn’t make my bed when I got there) my mother was with me, packing my bags like a professional traveler. I didn’t cry when I left, or in the months thereafter. But every day that I am not with them my heart breaks a little. Every time I experience something new, every time I learn something new, I turn to look for them so I can share. And every time I remember that they aren’t nearby.

Everyone who knows me knows my [current] views on children. They terrify me, every aspect of them. They are a blank slate that can be molded into anything, do the wrong thing and they are scarred for life. And while I have been adamant in the past that no wriggly little parasitic baby will be coming out of this uterus, I have to say the clock has been ticking for longer than I care to admit. So if, one day when hell has frozen over and bacon is flying, I do have a child...I hope to God and all that is holy in this world that I am half the parent my folks were for me. Because if I am, that child will probably turn out pretty decent.

I hope everyone in my life is lucky enough to find themselves. It’s scary and sad and wonderful and amazing all rolled up into one emotional bundle. And most of all: it’s a brand new beginning. There’s a whole world out there waiting for me. So many opportunities and people and experiences and challenges. Some good, some bad, some both. But all worth it in the end.

“It’ll be alright in the end. If it’s not alright, it’s not the end.”