When the ship docked for the last time, I was overwhelmed with emotions. And I don’t mean to say that I was just so ecstatic to be home or just heartbroken to leave the place that I had been calling home, I mean literally every emotion in the book was hitting me all at once like a brick wall. I was, undoubtedly, ecstatic to be pulling into our homeland and I was beyond heartbroken that the M.V. would no longer greet me every night and lull me to sleep with the dull roar of the engine, but I was also angry, relieved, exhausted, grateful, and uncertain about every single thing in my life. I was angry because it took pulling into Florida for me to really appreciate what I had just done. To an extent, I woke up every day thankful for this opportunity, but somehow I just know that I could have done more. I’m sure not many people will admit feeling this way since it comes too close to the word “regret”, but I don’t mean to say that I “regret” anything about my trip. There are certain things I wish I would have done or not done, but at the time, I did what I knew I wanted to do, & damnit, I had fun. I was relieved because for several weeks I had been longing for my normal routine. I dreamed of taking my dog for a run and then going to work. I missed the smell of Chicago pollution and, to be frank, I was just completely exhausted. Traveling, though easily my favorite thing in the entire world, can be draining. It’s amazing-something that gives me so much life and happiness and invigorates me to my very core can also, at times, feel like it’s simultaneously sucking the life right out of me-but in the best, most appreciated way possible.
Then, there was the one emotion that sat in the pit of my stomach. The one that made my palms clammy and my chest constantly feel like someone was sitting on it. Uncertainty. For more than 4 months I had been living this dream, and somewhere in that time, my dream began to feel like normal life. I was used to waking up in a new place every morning. I was used to watching the sun rise over the ocean and watch it set while I played poker in the dining halls. That became normal life. How does one adjust to a change like that? Even today, almost a month later, my hands are still sweaty and I have to focus to breathe when I think about it.
So there’s me, on December 8th, 2014 pulling into Florida. Kelsey and I refused to cry; we had been talking about this day since November, there was really nothing left to trouble over. We all woke up at 5am to watch us pull in0which was honestly pretty anticlimactic. And cold. But then, when the fuss died down, we retreated back to our room to soak in our last few hours in 4122. We watched the last few episodes of Friends and pretended that it was just another day. Then, The Voice came on the loudspeaker and announced our first group to disembark. Kels and I were pretty much the opposite of prepared. We started throwing things in our bags and calling our friends and changing outfits 600 times until we finally just gave up (I mean to say that we settled on an outfit, not that we gave up entirely and left the ship naked, just to be clear.). Rose came up to our room and the moment she shoved open my 600 pound door, the floodgates opened. Hugging her, I ugly cried. I pulled it together pretty quickly as our group got called and Kelsey and I headed to the waiting area with stone faces and dry eyes. As our group started to disembark, Kelsey and I swiped our ID cards out one last time, held hands, and walked down the gangway together. If there’s one particular moment that will be ingrained in my mind forever, it’s my best friend and I, the girl who I had spent 107 nights falling asleep next to, leaving our home hand in sweaty hand, crying quietly and shaking.
The rest of the day was a blur of travel. I was stuck in the terminal with 100 lbs. of luggage for 7 hours before I could even board my plane. Then it was delayed. Long story short, I eventually found my way back to my home and was greeted with a stuffed crust mini pizza and a 312 beer. Life is good.
So the last month has been uneventful. Everything I love about home and longed for so desperately, my dog, my mom, my apartment, my friends, etc. – It’s all still here. While there have been changes (my dog got even cuter-imagine that!), it’s pretty much the same. Only now I feel different. The girl that left in July was constantly stressed, and that’s not anyone’s fault but mine. I don’t mean that I was just busy, I mean that I would add unnecessary stress to my life because I had a nasty habit of needing to be stressed. People can be busy and happy- busyness doesn’t always have to lead to stress. But instead, I focused on the negatives. When I wasn’t focusing on how stressed I was on that particular day, I was busy thinking about the tomorrow, the day when all of the stress would stop. I dreamt about Semester at Sea, and to an extent, that’s a perfectly normal thing to do. But looking back, I realize that, while dreaming about something that amazing is understandable, it completely prevented me from living in the moment. Today, as I plan my next trip, I’m actively reminding myself that thinking about Guatemala constantly will only make me forget about today. And hell, I live in one of the greatest cities in the world, why should I waste all of my time dreaming about another one?
But speaking of longing-I didn’t expect to miss people as much as I do. Things happen every day and I just think “I have got to tell Kelsey about this”, or I’ll make some stupid face and I can just imagine Rose making fun of me. Every time I drink red wine and look down at my hand, I’m reminded of the “fancy” way my friends would drink the terrible wine on the ship. Every time I eat lunch, I still expect to look up and see 600 of my friends, Every time I turn out the lights in my room and turn on Netflix, I’m transported back to 4122, asking Kelsey what episode we were on. But more importantly, every time anything in my life happens, big or small, I have someone to call. I don’t know how I got so lucky-call it good karma or luck or whatever the hell you want-but I was blessed with the most amazing, genuine, caring roommate a girl could ask for. I left this experience with amazing, amazing friends, and every time I have a dream, whether it be grad school or travel or anything in between, I know that I’ll always have someone who will give me the perfect encouraging text. I’m usually one of those people who believes that distance can, and often times will, kill a relationship. I’m admittedly terrible at keeping connections if I don’t see them often. It’s a personality trait that I hate, but one that I live with. However, for the first time ever, I don’t feel distance pulling at my friendships. Not seeing my best friend everyday doesn’t lead us to awkward and strained check in texts. “Hey, miss you.” ”Miss you too.” “How are you?” “Good, and you?” “Good!” “Cool!” Instead, I have hilarious exchanges and meaningful conversations. We’d always joke about our hour long conversations before falling asleep, calling it our “pillow talk”, and that hasn’t gone away. I could go on for hours raving on and on about the friendships I’ve made, but I’m pretty sure I’ve made my point.
Basically, this post isn’t about a beautiful landmark that I saw last week, or that really cool thing I did yesterday, or anything else that will make my life seem extraordinary. This is just about what all of those things did for me. I was on Pinterest today looking at the board I made before I left that consists of pictures from all the places that were on my itinerary. Suddenly, it hit me. I mean really, really hit me. I mean I almost started full on crying at work. I miss these places, sure, but my heart actually aches because all of these pictures of all of these beautiful places remind me of a memory that I have there. I saw a picture of Lagos, Portugal and all I could think about was my three best friends and I, with our arms around each other, standing on uneven cobblestone streets, swaying while we listened to the most incredible street performers sing Avicii, and squeezing each others’ hands when they’d sing “Hope I get the chance to travel the world, but I don’t have any plans.” Memories, like that one, with my best friends who are now hundreds of miles away, but memories that will never stop making me smile. I had, admittedly, forgotten about how truly incredible this trip was. I had stopped appreciating the amazing views and landmarks I was seeing. Looking at these pictures reminded me of all the good that came from this experience.
If there’s one thing I can advise anyone reading this to do, it’s whatever your heart dreams about. For me it’s travel, but for you it might not be. I know that when I see pictures or hear stories of a foreign land, my heart beats a little faster. Whenever I even think about taking some sketchy chicken bus and having to desperately work my brain to communicate, I am forced to clench my jaw and actively calm myself down. Prior to this experience, I had things I loved. I loved going to the dog park and I honestly loved working. I still love those things with all of my heart. But I wouldn’t consider it a passion. Travel is my passion. Travel is what excites me and makes my blood pump faster. Travel, even to a dingy, undeveloped and remote area where no one speaks a lick of English, makes every hair on my body stand up. Every fiber of my being longs for this. It’s not a longing to leave here-I love Chicago-but it’s a longing to go out and discover. It’s a longing to explore and, as cliché as it sounds, it’s a longing to truly feel alive.
Now comes the part where everyone says to themselves that they can’t afford it, or don’t have time. I’m not here to spreadsheet your life or email your bosses for you, but I am going to tell you that annoying “take advantage of life” thing. Basically, go on Pinterest and look at all the inspirational travel quotes. Feel free to roll your eyes, but also understand that those quotes really do hold some truth. “Travel is worth any cost or sacrifice.” “Travel far enough and you’ll meet yourself.” “”The world is a book, and those who do not travel only read a page.” Blah blah blah, but seriously. I’m a believer. And as for money, I’m not going to tell you that it’s super duper easy and rainbows and butterflies rain down on you while you work desperately to save money. But with the right research, travel is significantly cheaper than you probably think. In fact, it’s actually significantly cheaper than living in Chicago. But I digress. The real point here, and the one thing I hope everyone understands from this, is that nothing is ever too far fetched. I spent countless hours crying over my bills from Semester at Sea. Then, I strapped on my boots, argued for financial aid, begged for help anywhere I could, and worked my ass off. And sure I took out a few loans, but I would have gladly sold my left arm to go on Semester at Sea, and with a little hard work, those loans are already almost paid off. This experience taught me that whatever I want, if I really desperately want it, I can have. It might take 50 hour work weeks and ramen noodles every day, but I can have it in the end.
People keep asking me how I’m adjusting to life back home. I never know what to say. What defines “adjusting well”? Am I adjusting at all? I have no idea. So instead of answering people’s questions, I turned to this blog, which proved an incredible outlet for all the other times I felt speechless. Thank you to everyone who read my endless ramblings for the last 5 months. If life goes my way, this is far from the last time you’ll be hearing from me.
Blessed are the curious, for they shall have adventures.
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