thnx fr th mmrs
I’m sitting here attempting to think of a word that describes this year in a sum, but none truly do it, as a whole, justice. Perhaps indescribable does just enough.
I went through my photos of the year to jog my memory, and as I looked at myself and the photos I’ve taken, it felt as if I was looking through a stranger’s camera roll. I mostly feel this way about the pictures I took in the beginning of the year…when I still used Instagram.
After time on end of attempting to completely ditch such an insidious app, I finally was able to live a life authentic; and far less angst-ridden in how others perceived me.
Aside from setting myself free from social shackles, I was given an amazing opportunity to travel throughout the summer, which I will be forever grateful for…the highs and lows.
I remember vividly when my family dropped me off for the first time at the airport: when the last hugs were given and goodbyes were spoken, I walked in, turning to realize no one was behind me, nor would there be.
It’s a strange feeling to truly know when you’re alone.
I’ve been asked, quite often, what it felt like travelling as a woman alone.
There are people in my life that are truly afraid of the world and living in general. I couldn’t dare accept a life as such.
I used to watch shows pertaining Forensic science, and I remember watching one documentary in particular where a policeman spoke to a newscaster about a murderer in the neighborhood saying, “These people shouldn’t be paranoid of what could happen, they should be prepared.”
Unfortunately, we live in a world full of desperation, where even in my home city, bad things could take place.
So, I chose to challenge my odds in exchange for making my dreams a reality.
I knew risks would be high, perhaps even more so due to being more vulnerable in the complete foreign. Though, the odds I faced were something that were also prominent right before me. Instead of cowering in fear, I prepared for the absolute worst.
I took jiu jitsu, I read various other solo travelers’ stories, advice, books, I researched into what to watch out for in the cities I was staying, everything.
To me, an exposure of such vulnerability wasn’t as daunting to me as settling in a life of vast regret.
Though, I’ll be honest…way more than I’d like to admit…there were times that I wish I had someone with me to share various moments with.
Such as waking up to the morning fog slowly exposing the bay
the delicious food
live music
moments of serendipitous bewilderment
colorful/vintage buildings
extravagant art
extravagant people
the even more countless, incredible sunrises/sets…
Throughout Canada, I read a few good books by my newly favorite author, Malcom Gladwell: Talking to Strangers and Blink. I tried an authentic almond croissant for the first time and fell head over heels.
I found a new movie to love as well: Good Will Hunting.
And for some reason became obsessed with rock music; mainly AC/DC and Guns N’ Roses.
I got arm tattoos, learned to love walking/exploring, I was clumsy, saw countless vibrant flowers, I laughed, I cried, I learned to love black coffee…and drank too much of it, and had a major panic attack.
I spent a few days in my head, debating on black and white options before me, almost going completely AWOL due to losing belief in myself altogether.
I’m thankful to have found a grey area in going back home to recharge a bit before truly exposing myself to the complete unknown that is Europe instead of letting go of the idea completely.
Throughout my journeys of Europe, I learned how to be my most innovative and learned more about myself than I ever have, since not having familiarity to influence me.
I read Zen, The Art of Simple Living about 20 times within a span of 2 months since it being the only book near me in English.
I fell off my bike more times than anticipated; this one time especially unanticipated:
I’d just rode my bike to the one bakery I knew had almond croissants, which was rather far, but worth the ride.
To my dismay, they were closed, yet I still held hope and a deep desire for an almond croissant.
On my way back home, I found another bakery that sold them. Feeling on top of the world, I continued my ride home filled of pure joy.
Mind you, this was in Denmark, where everyone rides bikes and does so in a way as if you’re in the Olympics. I, however, am an anxious rider when it comes to bikes, especially when others are nearby, and even more so near curbs.
There was construction being done along the bike lane I was in, and the only way to continue on was to jump the curb. As I inched closer, I watched others do so in pure nonchalance. Pure usual, I hesitated and grazed it with my front tire; and out flew the almond croissants of my basket and me to the floor with countless bikers surrounding and passing.
I felt like everything was moving in slow motion at that point, and all I saw was my hard-earned croissants doomed to be wasted. But I could not let that happen! I reached out for the bag and the rest was a blur; I’m happy to report that the croissants were saved and thankful I wasn’t hit by another biker! I’m embarrassed to admit, though, that when a woman passed by asking if I was ok, all I did was stand up and give her a thumbs up.
Aside from scraping up my shins and arms a bit, I got more tattoos, learned some Danish — (a few months before travelling, I actually began teaching myself Swedish [naively] thinking that it was the only language spoken throughout Scandinavian countries…Honestly, though beautiful, Scandinavian languages are intimidating…the only thing I remember how to say in Swedish is “The boy drinks milk and eats an apple.”) —
I met interesting people, experienced a spark of magic, I laughed, I cried, rode a few boats, I learned to live without phone service, got lost…a lot, realized my French could still use some work, learned some Italian, learned to play the Ukulele, fell in love with another movie: Pretty Woman, made some friends, lost a friend, went to a wine tasting, learned how to make macaroons, drank coffee at the beach, rode (and dropped) a Vespa, and finally understood bus systems.
Towards the end of my journey, though, the unfamiliarity began to take its toll as I craved, desperately, for comfort.
And it wasn’t so much that I became uncomfortable because of the foreign environment surrounding, but what I was experiencing in that moment that heightened my senses to me truly feeling and being alone/vulnerable.
When I came home, though, back in the comfort of familiarity, I completely lost myself; this particular familiarity shown even more of a lack of comfort.
It would be unfair to pinpoint this on a single incident; to be quite frank, I simply just felt as if everything began to fall apart before my very eyes.
Hope became the new unfamiliar, in which I felt completely exhausted.
When I think back to the past handful of months, I don’t entirely remember falling apart, nor do I entirely remember picking myself up, I just remember opening myself up a bit more and continuing, and, by chance, found myself growing to be the best version of myself I’ve ever been.
Back home, I’ve come across some intriguing and helpful books: Soulful Simplicity and Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents, while reaching, yet again, for my all-time favorite book, The Penguin Anthology of 20th Century American Poetry…oh, how I wish there were more books as this!
I started cooking a lot more, currently going through a squash and greens phase, and have been branching out with various hummus recipes; finally tried chocolate hummus and found that beet hummus is lifechanging!!
I stopped listening to rock music in exchange for calmer and more uplifting Indie/Folk music, I’m learning how to be more vulnerable and gentler, I’m learning to love slowness to enjoy things in their entirety, I’ve learned to be honest with myself and accept/love myself, I’ve laughed, I’ve cried, and most importantly, I’m learning to live more with my heart instead of my mind.
There isn’t a single word merely for this past year for me simply because it holds vast contrasts in various shades.
What I’ve come to understand most, though, is that growth is change, and change holds its own difficulty requiring a loss of something, which, in return, almost always finds a way to be serendipitous.
Unfortunately, I’d become too accustomed to loss this year, some were necessary, while others…well, let’s just say that it’s taking some time for my heart to understand.
