environment.

Today, I’m missing home. My environment, my “safe” place. It’s a quiet morning in the office. Just myself in here. It’s kind of grey out, but there’s just enough light to where I can keep the overhead, fluorescent light off. I’m listening to The Avett Brothers, and a tear…or a few tears really…crawl down my cheek. Today, I miss my family, I miss my friends. There is something so bittersweet, and beautiful about this moment.  I chose this decision, and I truthfully couldn’t be happier about it.   I’m following my dreams, and experiencing the opportunity of a lifetime. However, nobody said that this would be easy, and I knew that it wouldn’t—but I don’t think I quite realized just how hard it would be sometimes.  While there is phone calls, and FaceTime—there is nothing quite as special as sitting down around a table having a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, beer, flute of champagne,  and just laughing. Sharing moments of your past week, both good and bad, and being thankful for the weekend or end of the workday when you can simply just lay everything out on the table. I miss that.

It’s funny though, because I know that if I had my little support group here, I know exactly what they would say. My mom would tell me how proud of me she is, and that much like every difficult situation I’ve faced, she would tell me to “keep plugging on.” My best friends would tell me that my house is haunted and that I should move back home—we would laugh, and then think about it for a moment saying in our heads “is this place really haunted?”  Each of them would then proceed to tell me how proud of me that they are, and that this is only temporary…that I’m not moving for forever. They would tell me that I have to do this, and that they understand that—I’m truly lucky.  They would tell me that they love me so much and that it will all be okay. My other best friend, who also had to move away for graduate school would probably tell me that she is feeling the same way that I am.  We would talk about how we wished that we were at the same institution so we could have our library/coffee dates every afternoon.  We would talk about our “typical” school stuff, and be each other’s backbone, telling one another that we can’t give up…because based on our “exit” exam, we are just “average,” despite the fact that our GPA’s said something else…and laugh because we made it into graduate school, and that we stressed so much over it our last semester of undergrad…and that well, we have to do it now.

I know that I’m not alone, I know that I have a huge support group behind me, but sometimes it is just sad.  I take solace in knowing that I’m pursing MY dream…this is something that I wanted, and still want…so, so, so badly. I am feeling extremely lucky to have this opportunity. I’ve only been in school a week, but I think that I already love my program, and all of my professors have been extremely helpful and kind.  I feel so proud of myself for taking this chance, and for embracing this change. I am happy to feel sad—or just to “feel” in general.  I know that where I am, sitting in this squeaky chair, enjoying the quiet morning, is exactly where I’m supposed to be, and that feels good.

 Listening to: “Salina” by The Avett Brothers