anacortes

So I suppose this post is long overdue. I returned from Europe over a week ago. And I feel like I'm supposed to be all amped and looking to write about every adventure and story and evocations of emotion and thought... And I have all of that... stories and memories and moments reflecting back as these glorious images and sounds and phrases in my mind, but I just feel... deflated. I feel deflated.

Don't get me wrong, I had the time of my life. Truly, I saw and felt and experienced and tried and ate and drank and sang and wrote and... and... and. It was phenomenal. But I guess it's like any major event in one's life, that when asked to talk about it or explain it to someone else, it seems nearly impossible. And it all feels like it was yesterday that I was night swimming in Cinque Terre watching shooting stars, or eating pesto and drinking wine while watching the sunset, walking along the Champs D'Elysee, Eiffel Tower in clear sight, or finding myself in awe of The David, strolling the streets of Venice, eating pancakes with Australian friends in an adorable flat in Lyon... And yet, it all seems like a million years ago. Like I was someone different then. Or rather, the time warp and transition back to the US stripped me of this person I had become while travelling, this person I was excited to be and try on... but now due to timing and circumstance and lack of decent pain au chocolat, she's gone. And I want her back.

I feel deflated.

I'm back here, in Maryland. I'm sitting at this little white desk, in my room, in my parent's house, surrounded by yellow walls, feeling small. This room feels too small. This desk, this bed, these ridiculous buttercup walls making all attempts to confine and smother. And I know it's this transitional period. This 'post college- what the hell am I doing with my life' phase. And part of me says that I should just recognize where I am and how I feel and just embrace it... accept it... allow. Allow, allow, allow. Well, as always, easier said than done, right?

I hate the transitions. I believe in them. I understand their purpose. But I hate them. I hate this constant feeling of being in between, of limbo, of uncertainty. I hate the perpetual trap of applying for jobs and searching for new homes and coming up with nothing, all the while wondering if want you think you want is actually want you want... or even, need. And second guessing every decision of every thought and action or hypothetical notion about your future... about the course or direction of your life.

I get that we're supposed to be "growing up" now. That we've entered the "real world" and all its responsibility. But I just don't see what it has to be so hard... why we should have to struggle so much, and get stuck in this place of essentially losing who we are. Losing the strong, confident, independent people we became through college- a challenging transition itself. Yet here we are. Grasping at straws and making grand attempts to simply get our feet underneath us, failing to understand why, after 4 years of formal education and degrees later, we can't seem to get our feet underneath us.

I'm leaving tomorrow for Seattle to attend my grandmother's funeral. My grandmother passed away on Tuesday and that in itself has sent this household into an unexpected frenzy. And while I wish it was certainly under different circumstances, I have to admit I'm looking forward to being in Washington, seeing family, surrounding myself with water and mountains and my aunt's delicious cobbler. There's something about the Pacific Northwest that's restorative in its peaceful calm and radiance of positive energies. Maybe this simultaneous grieving will find itself accompanied by a release... of all the frustrations and sadness and anger and fear... and I'll return here a week from now, ready to really get my feet in place.

Wish me luck.