This John Denver song speaks to me and connects to many feelings I have lately. Up to this point, all of my blog posts have detailed my adventures, my happiness, my new friends, my exciting new life. There is so much positivity to share with y'all, but every moment of every day is not fantabulously amazerrific. I feel all of the feelings: happy, lonely, excited, nervous, impulsive, reserved, the list goes on and on. Honestly, I'm feeling a lot lately and it's hard to pinpoint what each emotion means and how to manage all of them at once.
"I suppose there have been times when you felt like a room filled with darkness, not a window around. There must have been moments you felt you were truly alone. Then again, each of us knows, in a night of unbearable sadness, still a light can be found."
John's song is about the magic of love and finding the love that will mend our brokenness. Personally, the lyrics speak to the magic of creating a new life in a new place; they speak to my confidence that this is the place for me, despite the huge challenges I face and the difficulties I experience. I want to be here, I'm glad I'm here, and I'm making the most of it and loving it. But being new to Alaska, to pediatrics, to real life job/bills/responsibilities is scary, and it is easy to feel uncertain and all alone without my people - with new people who are great but not the same. Then there's Collin, who makes everything better, but he's far away and can only do so much for me; and how much do I want to rely on him to reassure me vs. reminding myself to stay strong and to remember who I am?
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I began this post many weeks ago...I have been unable to finish it until now, because I do not want to publish an incomplete thought, an unfinished story, a project in the works. That's what I am - what I feel like - right now. I am In Production and my thoughts and feelings are unpolished and inconclusive. Still, I want to make note of this time in my life, this part of my adventure, because it is true, real, and important for me. When I look back years from now and read my blog from a completely different perspective, I want to remember the bad times as well as the good, the hurt as well as the happy. I know that family, friends, and maybe a few strangers enjoy reading my blog to keep up with my life - and for your support, I truly thank you all. So don't you want the messy, long-winded, repetitive and redundant ramblings that represent my now? I thought so. :)
It is the middle of August and I have been in Anchorage for almost four months. That's longer than I've been away from home before, considering how frequently I visited Bloomington when I lived in Indy. Not only am I far from home, but I'm alone in the sense that not a single person here has known me more than four months. No one knows my history, my character, no one has memories of me or traditions with me. When I think about what to do on the weekends or evenings after work, I don't have a routine to fall back on or habits that guide my decisions. I'm developing them as I go, for sure, but everything is new and it's a process to find my routine, my comfort zone, my normal. Yesterday at work, my boss found me in the gym; she said she had a feeling that I might need a hug. She could not have been more correct. We hugged and we talked briefly about how I am feeling and doing lately, and she clearly stated what I've been unable to verbalize for a while now: I made many big life transitions at one time, which is a really difficult thing to do. I moved away from home, started my first professional job, and started my real adult life. Living away from my family, friends, and entire support system would be tremendously difficult on its own, but I have the added stress of new responsibilities and expectations. I live in a world unlike any I've ever known, and I'm navigating that world alone. Or so it feels. But I am not alone.
I have wonderfully caring coworkers, who are becoming great friends as well. I call home and talk to my parents (and see the dogs), which makes me feel like I'm not really so far away. And I have day-to-day conversations with Hillary, Collin, Brittany, and Amy - they ground me, remind me who I am, make me miss them, and tell me they're proud of me. It feels like years since I've been home, since Patty and Sarah were here, since Collin visited...but it hasn't been years and it won't be years before I see them again. I'm going home for four days next weekend, and it is going to be the most spectacular and bittersweet trip I've ever taken. I cannot wait to see my parents, to sit around with them and talk, to eat familiar Bloomington food, to be at Bryan Park, to hug my Hillary and never let go, to walk my Roo, to feel Indiana summer. I don't have time to see everyone I miss and love, because this is a quick trip for continuing education with the added perk of being at home, but it will be enough to hold me over until Collin moves here in September and brings a piece of home to Alaska. He and my Roo will finally join me on this grand wilderness adventure and we will build a new life together, different than any life I ever could have planned or imagined. All of the struggles I face will slowly fade as I learn, try, fail, try again, succeed, rinse, and repeat. Like my manager told me, I'm a baby, I'm not supposed to know anything. The knowing comes with the doing, which takes time, so here's to growing up and to the new adventure Collin and I chose.
"All the things that you fear, at the most they mean nothing.
All the sorrow and sadness can just disappear.
There was never a doubt, never a doubt in my mind, we weren't meant to be lonely.
Never a doubt, I knew that I'd find you some day."
All the sorrow and sadness can just disappear.
There was never a doubt, never a doubt in my mind, we weren't meant to be lonely.
Never a doubt, I knew that I'd find you some day."
