Every day I look at my featured photos Apple so graciously chose for me.
They tell my story. Simply just past memories jumbled up in only 10 photos. Every day I look at them, and I reminisce. Sometimes I feel a hole in my soul, eager to return to a specific location. Sometimes I feel utter joy seeping through my skin, smizing, because I’m proud of myself—proud of where I have been, what I have done, and who I’ve become. Sometimes I feel empty, in the present, staring at 10 highlights, the highest moments, of my life, wondering, “Will I ever travel there again? Will I ever move across the world again? Will I forget the specific details of that perfect memory and replace it with the drag that I feel today?” Sometimes I feel so full. Full of love, of life, of peace, of happiness, of determination, of satisfaction that my biggest dreams and goals may be slowly coming to fruition.
Looking at these photos does me good, and it does me bad. I often get stuck in the past wishing I was still there, somewhere else. I often become motivated to challenge myself and take big leaps. I often sulk in my bed in the evening writing down all the many ways I can change my course and find that present happiness that I see in those photos. I often brainstorm how I can make bold moves to dabble in different fields and jobs because will I truly be satisfied with only 1 career for the rest of my life? I often look Brooks straight in the eyes and give Dan a big, bear hug because I’m happy to have both of my boys.
Life turns in circles. The highs, the lows; they come and go. But they’ll always come back and pass by, just as before. It’s easy digging your rut and lying in it, but it’s difficult to scrape away the discouragement, self-doubt, imposter syndrome, denial, and fear.
After all of this, I lock my phone screen and think, “How can I get to where I want to be?” The rut doesn’t seem so deep and dark anymore. I remember walking in to my advisor’s office with tears in my eyes saying I didn’t want to be a physician. I remember working at a restaurant after graduation because I had no “career” plans. I remember taking my savings and flying out West with my sister for a road trip wondering how I was going to make the money back afterwards. I remember how indecisive I was for 6 months before finally committing and flying to China. I remember asking the boy I liked to move to the US with me and instantly thinking, “What did I just do?” I remember all of those uneasy times, and honestly, more.
I look in the mirror and remember those uncomforting, uneasy, indecisive, overwhelming times occurred right before some of the best moments in my life. These featured photos, they do me good, and they do me bad, but they give me assurance in knowing that the good follows the bad. The good is coming. Just be patient.
& now it’s evident to me, plain as clear day, why I turn assignments in right before they are due—the damn featured photos got me again.
Sometimes when you become so busy, you forget about the things you want to do, the things you like to do. Writing: it’s my outlet but also the hobby I place on the back burner whenever my stress takes over. Maybe it’s time to bring it to the front for a bit.
My brain is a ball of confusion. My roots are brown. I ordered 3 pairs of new glasses because my eyes are turning into my grandmother’s from staring at screens too often. I may have arthritis in my hands from typing, texting, and swiping through my iPad reads. The only things we are allowed to do is go grocery shopping (to ALDI of course) and walk around the canal a million times to stay healthy and mentally sane, so we do both, frequently. My days are still cold and mostly rainy, but I have a balcony to enjoy the few days that don’t fall into the two “typical England” categories. Though, the days are becoming lighter, the sun peaks out every once in a while, and the weather is thinking about becoming warm but hasn’t fully, just like Coronavirus is thinking about going away but says “nah” anyways. The employees in the three coffee shops below my apartment should understand my accent by now, but the masks are the damnedest things: I just sound like a muffled child slurring my words. My 19-floor apartment building has a giant trash (“bin”) room that doesn’t get cleaned out near as much as it should be considering the amount of people working from home. I almost guarantee that my entire floor is annoyed from 10:30am – 2:00pm when I excitedly teach English to my students. But my breath is Coronavirus-free, or so it should be, because I haven’t been closer than 6 feet to almost anyone except my boyfriend since I left the United States on December 3rd.
I miss the constant sunshine, the daily triple walks with my dog, and the restaurants that were open for outdoor dining. Nothing sounds greater than a big, juicy burger sitting in front of me with a waitress/waiter coming up to ask, “Is everything ok?” Yes, everything would be perfect. Ubereats is way too slow, and I don’t prefer a cold, soggy-bun-American-burger-wanna-be. The fish from ALDI cures the craving, but I need the restaurant fish ’n’ chips now, please. I wear the same black Zella joggers and black Nike sweatshirt majority of my days while the clothes I crave to wear just collect dust like the carpet in the bedroom because I haven’t invested in a vacuum yet for these 6 months. I think the only weekly change around the apartment was the flowers I bought each week at the over-priced yet delicious store down the block that unfortunately closed mid-February. I appreciate the clean tap water, I still can’t find myself to acclimate myself to room-temp water. That’s another thing I desire that I refuse to buy, an ice machine. I have a dishwasher, but I’ve washed more dishes by hand lately than I think I have my entire life (besides the period of time my family lived without a dishwasher because I fell on the open door with the cat—we were both ok). I cook 99% of meals with 0 leftovers, and I have only used the microwave to reheat my leftover Chinese, which is food poisoning waiting to happen, according to Mr. FDA himself, Dan. We’ve starting expanding our recipes, and I have to say, we’ve become better cooks (though I will never be better than my mom, Carol). I wasted about 10 hours out of my time in England watching the beloved Twilight Saga that was actually really horrible. I’m glad I never conformed to the Team Edward or Team Jacob, and I send my sympathy to those of you who did. English subtitles are a necessity if you plan to understand UK TV. I’ve had more technology issues than I can count on my fingers and toes, but no store is open for technological help or comfort. My dark circles have tripled in size since I’ve been here, which I could easily blame on the technology problems. My favorite food is a croissant (obviously), and my favorite drink to buy currently is an almond milk cappuccino. I also feel like the food here doesn’t last as long before it rots. It may be better for my body, but man, it pisses off my tiny fridge. It’s embarrassing to say but I tried more than my capacity of skills to keep my Aloe plant alive, but it recently died after I posted a picture of it on March 3rd. Karma for even thinking that I knew what I was doing.
On a final note, I’ve learned new ways to Google because I was tired of seeing “No Results Found”. Let me give you a small British English lesson:
“Jumpers” – Sweaters
“Toilet roll” – Toilet paper
“Washing liquid” – Dish soap
“Chicken burger” – Chicken sandwich
“Bacon butties” – Bacon sandwiches
“Aubergine” – Eggplant
“Chips” – Fries
“Crisps” – Chips
“Biscuit” – Cookie
? – Biscuit (still a mystery)
“Toilet” – Bathroom
“Toilet” – Toilet
“Garage/Petrol” – Gas Station
“Mongrel” – Mutt
“Covid-19 jab” – Covid-19 shot
“Wellies” – Rubber boots
“Bobbles” – Ponytails
& the finale — the one that caused the biggest holiday confusion and I refuse to ever use:
“Baubles” – Ornaments
I’m sorry I threw a whole bunch of nonsense at you, but then again, I’m not sorry because I told myself I would start saying it less, and you didn’t have to read it anyways.
This probably isn’t what you thought you would read, but if you made it this far, it must’ve been better.
Coronavirus in England sucks, but some great memories have come out of it.
I always said, “The first step is acknowledging it. The second step is doing it.” It’s true, right?
First, you have to acknowledge you need to change or you yearn to take a chance, then comes the “doing it” part.
I’m laying here like I always do when this day comes around once a year: my birthday. The 2 things I hope for each year are a cake (even just a slice or a cupcake will do) and cards. Not only is this year a milestone of a number, but it’s also the year I won’t splurge on my mom’s homemade German chocolate cake. Being abroad, though, makes you realize little things matter the most. I already received her card by mail, and I know she will send me a picture saying, “Look what you’re missing!” on her birthday when she makes herself the cake. Honestly, that is almost as fulfilling as shoveling it in my own mouth today.
I’ve struggled to deeply think and creatively write this year. Nothing seems to come out the way I want. I have hundreds of notes that are wanting exposure but just sitting there, a jumble of words, or a potentially great blog post that is just not near complete in my mind. It’s been a weird year mentally, emotionally, and socially. And for not only me, I’m sure. I’m hoping this post breaks the ice of the my stagnant mind, but if not, its purpose stands alone.
I have learned more about my impolite, unkind habits and more about the things I love—those that are meaningful and such a blessing. Some I’ve made plenty of progress with and others have been brushed under the rug for the next time I come across them.
However, one thing has stayed consistent throughout the year. I have acknowledged a lot. I’ve acknowledged rude words that come out of my mouth, awful thoughts that have engulfed my mind, lessons I need to finally learn, tasks I need to complete, hobbies I need to toss to the curb and those that I need to pick up, food that should never enter my mouth and body, soda is still bad for us no matter how heavenly Diet Coke tastes, and passion and purpose can parallel or be total opposites.
I couldn’t tell you when I learned to acknowledge more in my life because acknowledgement has never been my problem.
“Doing it” was the issue. “Doing it” is the issue.
But 2020 started the journey, and in 2021, I’m continuing to work on the second step: “doing it.”
I acknowledged that I never journaled as much as I wanted to. I use a daily Q&A journal that a friend gifted me.
I acknowledged that I wasn’t as active as I needed to be. I do the one thing I hate and turned out to like — run.
I acknowledged that I bring experiences and feelings from the past into my present day life. I become more mindful of these moments in order to live presently.
I acknowledged that my vocabulary is still very poor. I continue to read things I don’t understand to improve my below par vocabulary.
I acknowledged that after years of trying to learn a language, I still don’t know one. I study a little each day.
I acknowledged that I stress a lot. I take a lot of baths to destress.
You get it. Stop acknowledging. Just do it.
On a final note, I know that wherever I am in the world, I am so loved by many people in a myriad of places. And that makes me so so happy.
For the life I live, the people I know (both those I have met and those who have continued by my side along the way), and the experiences I have had.
For the boy I love, the dog I own, the friends I laugh with, and the family I am blessed with.
For the privilege to choose how I want to live my life, the choices I can make, and the opportunities I can accept or decline.
For the roof over my head, the clothes that cover my body, and the spatial and economic access I have to healthful, nutritious foods.
For the ability and skills to simply think, read, and write, along with an excessive amount of pens that make my writing clear and colorful.
For limbs that are capable of exercise (but definitely need more).
For all 5 senses. I always said smell would be the first sense I’d give up if I had to, but I can’t imagine living without the smell of freshly bathed/showered skin. The human body is so real, lively, and refreshing.
For holidays that I get to share with every single family member present because the days of us all being together at once have become very limited.
For legs that can walk, bike, drive a car, and run onto a last minute flight.
For the world workforce because without everyone playing his/her part in the world, we would be nothing. Everyone is essential.
For pumpkin pie and a spicy fresh lime or blood orange margarita on the rocks with a salt rim.
For my hometown that always keeps me grounded and welcomes me with endless hills, beautiful scenery, the most loving people, and peace.
For the cities, states, and countries that I’m sure I’ll live in one day.
For the freedoms I have, the knowledge I’m gaining, and the love I’m fortunate to feel.
But I pray for those who don’t have the same as me. I pray they can live a healthy life with the absolute essentials and pray they receive opportunities to acquire those wants they have always dreamed of having.
Although I’m very thankful for my life and all that I have, I also pray I learn to live a simpler life, break from materialism, and deplete my time and money to those in need and who are appreciative. I yearn to develop a more giving heart and richer soul.
A few things you’ll learn when you move halfway across the globe
I made a selfish choice.
I packed my bags, kindly and quickly — due to a last-minute decision — said my goodbyes, and sipped on that American Airlines red wine all the way to China. To do what? I had accepted a job teaching English at China and America Foreign Language School because I had just turned 23 years old and had no idea what I wanted to do. I did know, however, that I didn’t “just” want to teach. I craved meaning out of it. I wanted more, an experience, and no matter how you look at it, that’s exactly what I got.
I learned soon after arrival that everything I thought I was getting myself into in my new foreign territory prior to stepping foot on Wutong Shan was actually undeniably false. I had visions of living in downtown Shenzhen, meeting a wide variety of new coworkers and friends, quickly being enthused to learn survival Mandarin, becoming a yogi, buying a bike to cycle around the city, obsessing over my new job, and doing everything my heart and mind told me would improve myself as a person while really digging deep to find my inner soul.
In reality, I stepped out of the airport and immediately felt the overwhelmingly uncomfortable atmosphere — a mix of being the minority in an extremely overpopulated area of people speaking a completely different language plus the massive heat wave that instantly drenched my armpits as if a tsunami had just gone through. I left my cozy comfort zone of Cape Girardeau on one side of my Apple maps and landed in the most humid little mountain village in a moldy, ant-inhabited dorm room on the opposite side. My jet-lagged eyes burned, and my body ached due to the two-inch thick mattress I had contracted myself into sleeping on for the rest of the year. “Damn, Alexis. What did you get yourself into?” I wondered to myself.
But dear self, here is what you didn’t know then: the process of a big move is hard. It daunts you for months, weeks and days before you wake up in utter shock that you’re about to leave everything you know for a world of confusion and mistrust in hopes that you quickly evolve into your new life and are accepting of the journey. The worry may consume you, but you smile and tell yourself to “be yourself, Lex; let loose and enjoy the opportunity” because your old coworkers told you to and your new coworkers are all you have. You lay awake at 3 a.m. every morning talking to your family and friends 14 hours behind you, holding back your tears because you don’t want swollen eyes in the morning and can’t even make it back to the airport alone due to fear — so leaving isn’t an option. Your job is frustrating; communication seems like it doesn’t exist, and you constantly feel unappreciated.
But time does go on. Life gets easier. You begin to appreciate the little things. The things that you never thought you would even think twice about and smile about at the end of your journey.
The two-minute walk each morning to school will leave your hair a curly, frizzy mess and your clothes with drops of sweat. You will feel cheated and lied to by your weather app: 98 degrees Fahrenheit with 100% humidity?! The heat is a nightmare that you will never wake up from. You’ll teach your 7th grade students the phrase “Please turn on the A/C” before you ask, “How was your winter holiday?”
No matter their behavior, your students mean something to you. You will remember their faces and names forever.
Your schedule will be posted one day with all of your classes. Classes you never thought you’d be able to teach: for example, drama. You’ve never had experience in a drama class, nor do you like it. But the kids somehow get you through it, and you feel extremely accomplished.
Privacy doesn’t exist in China. Your space bubble bursts as soon as you walk into the country, and your connection to the outside world gets lost in the air because even though you downloaded and purchased a Virtual Private Network (VPN), the majority of the time it doesn’t work. Appreciate the time off social media. Cherish the present.
Save your money. For booking a cheap flight during a Chinese holiday. For a good, fat, greasy Western burger instead of $0.14 fried rice for breakfast, lunch and dinner. For weekend Dameisha Beach getaways to binge watch free hotel movies and sleep on a thick, heavenly mattress.
Everyone will say, “Do not eat the street food.” But listen to me: do not be scared of the barbecue. It may treat you wrong once or twice, but it will do you right in the end. Enjoy it, but beware. Experiment with new foods.
Always take that hike. The journey is hard, but the extra steps are always worth it, no matter the degree of the hangover from the night before. There’s always a fresh, total off-brand hot dog waiting for you at the top and juicy pineapple sticks or whole cucumbers (which are actually incredibly refreshing) along the way. Keep on trekkin’.
Eat the cheap ice cream every Friday afternoon. You deserve it after a 50-hour work week. The 1¥ banana pops are actually the best according to price and taste.
Make friends with the local shop owners. They’re going to be the first people you see each morning as you run out the door and the last you see walking back home, always with a smile on their faces and a new fresh fruit in hand for you to try.
Be uncomfortable. Strip from your comfort zone. Be willing to change and unwilling to accept less. Give yourself time to welcome the struggles and appreciate the growth.
You play your last game of UNO with your students on your final work day in China, reminiscing about your journey, excited for your future. Coming home to normality is difficult. I’d say it is almost more difficult than moving abroad, away from everything you know. Things at home have changed, but so have you. The dollar is worth more, and the items cost more, too. It was challenging to stay in touch with family and friends while you were away, promising a blog you never quite kept up with so they were never in the loop, and now it’s difficult to catch them up. You think explaining your journey when you’re finally home after eight months will be less complicated, but it is just as tough as keeping them updated when you were gone.
The process is challenging but rewarding. I’ve said it once before, and I’ll say it again — through our location-limited comfort zones is our true break in life. There will never be a right time to do things in life. Follow opportunity, and keep your adventure going. The person you become through the process of stepping out of comfort is definitely worth it.
Dan and I were the typical tourists and explored the Arch. It was honestly enjoyable to take him on his first sightseeing adventure in the US and terribly gratifying for me to revisit a place I only saw once before when I was very young. We both appreciated each other’s presence and the vast views of our second inhabited city together.
They say going to the Arch in the beginning of the year brings you a clear mind as well as good luck throughout the entire year. Isn’t that what we all want? So Dan and I quickly jumped on the bandwagon, wrote our New Year’s Resolutions on bright orange sticky notes, and posted them up on the windows inside the Arch vulnerably displaying them to the world.
It’s also claimed that you can spend as much time in the top of the Arch as you want to between the time it opens and closes. We spent 12 long minutes. The 12 minutes we spent were some of the greatest 12 minutes of 2020 thus far. Open-minded. Clear thinking. Beautiful views. Great company. Belly laughs. Endless smiles. Love. Presence.
“Drink more water.” “Be more present.” The three simple words we wrote on our orange stickies. Our goals for the year.
Whether your resolution is big or small, whether you only have two or you’re trying to accomplish seventeen new good habits, the fact of the matter is to make it based off your own self and stick with it! Just because {insert name here}’s resolution is a great one, doesn’t mean I need to tag it onto the end of my list in hopes that I’ll achieve it but in reality fail to. I made my seven resolutions for a reason. You made your list for a reason too. Those two or seventeen resolutions you made for yourself by yourself were because you felt that you could create better habits and overall become a better person through just some simple, or more challenging, declarations.
No matter how silly people think resolutions are (because “nobody sticks to them”) I will always admire them. They make you think, make you motivated, make you question yourself, make you reflect, and make you resolve. They make you better.
So set goals. Think of resolutions. Change your mindset. Challenge yourself. 2021 will roll around, and you’ll be happy you did.
And in the meantime, Dan will be drinking more water, and I will be more present in my life in the current moment. Big or small—we’re bettering ourselves.
But a post concerning my 23rd year. Quite random but good.
I decided to become more present. To kick this quality off, I presently enjoyed my holidays less entertained by my phone and more intrigued in conversation and being. As well, in typical Alexis fashion, I started the new year off with an incredibly late post — HENCE the resolution of presence so being late is finally somewhat acceptable. Here’s my very condensed “2019 Year in Review” if you’re interested.
First off, I don’t think any New Year’s post of mine beats that of 2017. If you don’t remember it, I’m truly sorry, but here’s a link to it so you can print it and post it on your fridge: https://www.instagram.com/p/BdZTLf6nZoY-xTy6Jx94taNLIzVLu57BkPTTag0/. I still look back at it, and I still try to live by my own commands. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it.
2019 was a blessing. In so many ways. I’ve never cried more days in my life, smiled so many days in my life, and laughed through a majority of the days of the year. I moved halfway across the world and lived a life so foreign to my comfort zone. In the beginning, I kept checking my maps thinking that one day I’d wake up near my friends, and sure enough, I finally did months later. The reason I didn’t cry so soon in my journey was halfway due to the fact that I was honestly shocked for months that I was actually able to go through with that big of a decision and halfway due to constant, enjoyable company (@DAN — thank you so much).
My time in China should have been deeply described to you in detailed blogs that I so very badly wanted to write, but for some reason, I just couldn’t get myself to. So I didn’t. I spent less and less of my time on my phone and on social media due to VPN connection issues and more of my time being present in my daily life. It was enjoyable, and I don’t regret it, but the consistent blogs, unfortunately, never were accomplished. I will admit that I did spend a long time each day trying to connect to my VPN to watch Masterchef on Youtube….. because how long can you honestly live without a TV? Youtube is a T R E A T when there is nothing else, trust me — says the person who honestly doesn’t even have an attention span to make it through an entire show without doing another activity at the same time.
I do promise you this — you’ll get more of a taste of China soon. Whether that be homemade Chinese dumplings or maybe just a piece of writing I’ll put together. Any votes?
Later in the year, I went through a horrible allergic reaction which still scars my mind because I could never imagine a life with that much constant itching. At the same time, my dear boy, Brooks, was going through an allergic reaction, as well, but all the way across the world back in good ole’ MO. Miles and miles away I felt his pain and sorrow, sobbing in my bed like I’m sure he did in his. Like mother like son, unfortunately, in this case. Lucky me, I received my treatment as fast as we could translate the right Chinese, so in other words, days later. But Brooks, on the other hand, battled his for weeks, still taking medicine and restricted to a diet months later.
But hip hip hooray: after arriving back in Missouri, alarmed by the cold weather, regretting that I ever decided I loved cold weather, I was finally on the U.S. map again enjoying my holiday season.
What’s better than that you ask? 2020 brought us real answers! Answers to Brooks’s allergies: 3 years later. And finally, he was privileged enough to eat an orange again. Luckily, he’s not allergic to his cat friend, Tom, but the poor guy is allergic to, basically, in a nut shell, my parents’ backyard! How convenient.
Nearing the end of 2019, I concluded that the biggest waste of money of the year is still Polyester sweaters. Nobody ever has time for pilling. And even when you explain to me, “Oh, just put a razor to them, and they’ll come right off!” I honestly don’t want to buy a $40 sweater just to have to buy a razor 3 washes later to waste my time getting rid of a million little tiny balls on my sweater. Thanks, but no thanks. Avoid the Polyester. It should be a sin to even sell the material to the public in my opinion.
It’s incredibly hard to believe that a majority of my year was spent in China. If you asked me on Jan 1, 2019, I would have said I wasn’t going, but a year ago, on my birthday, I decided to say, “Hey, what the heck, let’s go.”
I went to China lost and confused, and came back still confused. But I have a better mindset on life. A more satisfying meaning on what I want life to be like rather than what I want to exactly do in my life. Because while I’m still unsure of what I want to do, I know that I want to experience the best meaning of my life and fully fulfill the tiniest parts of life that we all often forget. Of course, I still want to travel, and I still have goals to eventually stand two-feet on the ground in my dream job, but I found meaning that lies in the present. In each day of my life. Meaning. Purpose. Fulfillment.
Sadly, I won’t candidly share my 2020 resolutions with you because I think, like birthday wishes, resolutions won’t come true if you tell people either, but I will promise you more blogs whether you appreciate them or not.
Crying is good for the soul. In times of happiness. In times of sadness. In times of fury. In times of sympathy. In times of encouragement. In times of just simple feeling.
I’ve been waiting for this day prior to the day I even left. I watched Facebook and YouTube videos, read articles about dogs and their feelings, read blogs about others’ personal experiences, and tried to really connect with Brooks to understand how he would feel once I was gone. I know- I’m crazy and overthink. Regardless, I’ve been preparing for this day beyond the necessary preparation time, if you think that even exists for this circumstance.
I cried many nights in bed weeks before leaving for China when I searched and binged YouTube videos of men in the army coming home to their dogs, months, even years, after being gone.
I cried when I landed in China thinking, “I have 6 more months before I see him again.”
I cried when I rummaged through all of my shit I inconveniently overpacked, partly because I realized the idiot I am for extremely, unnecessarily overpacking like I was heading to an abandoned island where I wouldn’t be able to get a smidge of normal life and partly due to pulling out photo after photo of my perfect dog while smiling at his not-so-perfect, crooked teeth.
I cried when I pulled my hair out after FINALLY receiving the package my mom sent me, shoving my face with cheese Cheetos and Twizzlers in tears because I’m not a fan of chicken or squid flavored Cheetos and flipping over a photo frame with my dog inside (and other photos behind that photo “just in case I get bored of it”) was the exact thing I needed at that moment.
I cried leaving the mountain not because there was any traffic on the way down or because I’ll miss it at all but solely due to the fact I regretted not booking a flight straight home to give snugs to my dog when I should have been jumping with utter excitement that I was traveling around Asia with my sister and boyfriend, and so many people would never get the chance to do that.
I cried several mornings/nights on the trip due to measly frustrations that occurred because all I could think about was getting home to Brooks.
I cried when Dan woke me up at 9:30am to show me another video (that I had not yet seen even after watching hundreds of them) of owners coming home to their dogs after being away. I’m now giggling because I think he actually thought I would smile and be ecstatic to watch that video when in reality I was just bathing in a puddle of tears and pissed that I actually opened my eyes and pretended to want to watch it.
I cried when I missed my flight from Shanghai to LA because I was supposed to get to STL at 8am. I strategically picked that flight so I could come home and see Brooks in the daylight and just sit outside with him and love on him all day long. I was enraged with anger because my perfectly planned out return date was ruined, and I was stuck for another night in the country that I craved so badly to just get the fuck out of.
So here I was, just a couple days ago, in real tears, finally hugging on my boy. The very best day.
It feels so good to be home after a thousand tears later.
I feel like I gave you free access, amped you up for the blog, and then stripped the enjoyment right out from under you—kinda similar to what Turnpike Troubadours did to their fans in STL right before I left for China, cancelling their show a few days before the date. Yes, I’m obviously still bitter about it.
My point. I want to say, “I’m sorry for my distance, my inability to balance everything going on in my current life right now and stay updated with your current lives like I had planned to.” In reality though, I’m truly not sorry.
Life is all about the person living in it. & that’s YOU. For my life, it’s me. And that is why I’m not apologizing for the inconsistency of the planned, weekly blog posts or the lack of keeping up with everything back in the USA.
I used to pride myself on being able to keep up with people’s lives, at least those I cared about. I was always the one who checked up on everyone, who never forgot a “Happy Birthday”, and who sent daily reminders to the forgetful ones.
Then I moved halfway across the world and quickly lost the one thing I was actually good at. Even after downloading the most ridiculously used app in China (WeChat) and having my phone constantly buzzing with new messages, I feel so distant and saddened by the fact that I just cannot keep up anymore. Currently, I feel like the calendar date here isn’t even the same as the date back in MO. I’m 14 hours ahead, but it feels like I live in a world where I’m days ahead. It’s difficult to explain my feelings, my daily routine, and my new life to the people I crave to keep up with but have just fallen so short of staying in touch.
I just want understanding. You may not understand where I am coming from, but I just want you to understand that if you meant something to me back in our home territory, you still mean something to me in this new, foreign territory. No matter if we have talked every day. No matter if I have ignored your messages on accident. No matter if I say, “I’m busy,” and then forget to respond later.
I realize now that this move was based solely on myself. Yes, it was a selfish thing to do. But yes, I needed to be selfish. Thinking that this was so selfish was something that was eating at my soul months before I left, but I had to do it. I moved far, far away for myself. To grow. To experience. To blindly live a life of freedom of everything except a 40 hour work week. Not only a 40 hour work week, but a 50 hour work week. So cheers. Cheers to 6 – 50 hr work weeks in China. May the work be doable and the free time be extraordinary ✨🌸
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