| 10:48p |
Is this right?
I've moving back to Corvallis on January 11. I'm so excited. But in being excited, I'm not remembering the last 2 years. I'm remembering that first year. It was so monumental. So eventful. And I grew so much.
Am I expecting too much out of it this time around? I find myself missing Dixon Lodge. Missing that feeling of these people I barely knew, and who were so different from me, being so accepting of me. No doubt, I'm still so greatful for it, but now I'm just an established part of the group and they couldn't drop me if they wanted ;). There are so many aspects of that year that I miss like crazy and it's so hard to explain. It's because it was so new. Maybe it's time for the next adventure?
But maybe the next adventure can be Corvallis. Trying it as an adult for 6 months. An adult with a real job. Which, by the way, has been exciting on some level, but not something I'm ready for permanently yet. It's such a grown-up job and I'm not quite ready to be a boring 8-5er yet. I mean, I've got to grow up sometime, right? But I'm only 23. Although some people at 23 are very established and even have a few kids.
I DON'T KNOW!!
I'm excited. I'm nervous. This might be the last time--ever--that I live in the same city, or even state, as Jennifer Meitl and that is immeasurably sad to me. I want that friendship to stay just how it is, forever and ever, but I know that's not possible. I want to slow down time. It's going so fast. All this summer, I couldn't wait till I was in a more stable place and now I'd give anything to go back to a time that was less certain, but where there was more adventure.
Although nothing's certain now.
I guess the lesson is to enjoy what I have now because it's a unique stage of life?
Man, recently I was telling someone how in my darkest times, when I was recovering (which was HELL), when I was living in the same residence as my ex, when it was NOT a cordial breakup, how I look back on that fondly now...I was so cradled in the arms of God. I was going to adoration daily, or nearly daily, sometimes for an hour and a half. It was something done out of desperation, not devotion, but it really goes back to that footprints in the sand poem...sometimes, when God is carrying you because you are too weak to walk, you don't realize it. Somehow you think you feel every laboring step, but later on you look back and realize that your weak, debilitated self was being gently cradled and carried along.
It gives me (the good kind of) chills just thinking about it. We are never alone. And oh how it sucks when it feels like it. But it really is comforting to look back and realize that even when I felt like I was going crazy (oh man...the repetitive horrible thoughts that cycled through my head for hours, not allowing me to sleep, I really did think I was going crazy) I was so not alone. And I never will be.
Now I'm rambling...but thanks for letting me. I think I really needed to. |