As promised.

So, as everyone knows, I recently visited Orlando, my former home-away-from-home and land where most of my best friends still live. I knew I would kick myself if I didn’t make it up to Orlando during my month-long vacation at home, but at the same time as I was extraordinarily excited to get there, I was also a little worried about possible ramifications. Namely, I was worried that I would remember how much I loved it there and would never want to leave, that I would once again be unable to see New Jersey as my new home-away-from-home and would fall back into terrible homesickness.

Quite the contrary happened while I was there. I spent some time in the UCF library, my old haunt, and walked all around campus. I revisited some of my favorite restaurants and reconnected with old friends. It was, all in all, in every way, a fantastic trip.

It was so great not only for the fact that I got to spend some time with people I have sorely missed (and continue to), but also because I was finally able to come to terms with leaving it behind. I’ve spent the last four months wondering (and wishing it were the case sometimes) what my life would be like if I had chosen to stay in Orlando. I would still be able to see my best friends on a daily basis; I would know my way around; I would have a car. I would still be living in my old comfort zone. I would not be growing and changing. (I also would not have the most adorable kitty in the world to call my own.)

As I sat beside the UCF reflection pond with book and coffee in hand, just as I’ve done 1000 times before, I finally realized that my moving away was the absolute right choice. I needed to do it, and no matter how scared I was (and still am sometimes), I know in my heart I made the right choice. I am supposed to be where I am. If I had stayed (in other words, given in to some of my biggest fears), I probably would have suffocated from claustrophobia. I’ve said it before, but now I truly believe it, I needed this change in my life.

When I moved to New Jersey, I felt that I had lost a lot of things. I worried that I would forget them, that they would no longer be a part of my life. Now, I can look at all that I have gained and appreciate where I came from. I’m no longer clinging to the past, crying over what could have been. While I was home, I spent some time trying to work out the particulars of a rather complicated relationship in my life right now, a relationship I’m not quite sure how to define. As we talked it over, the other half of this bundle of complications told me I needed to let go of things and move on. At the time, I brushed it off. I truly believed I had already done that (see here).

However, as I sat that day by the pond and thought about all the other times I had come to the very same place for solace, for peace, for comfort, for joy and about all the people I had shared parts of myself with while watching the water spill from the fountain, droplets dancing in the sun or moon, I finally did what I had been trying to do for so long (what I believed I’d already done). I just let it all go. It wasn’t a conscious decision, just a simple revelation. Something so simple, but I could feel the change in me instantly.

Now I can begin to build a new life and know that in building it I am not forgetting or forsaking all that came before, but rather relying on my strong foundation to grow even higher.

Never far enough.

Sometimes I wonder why life plays cruel tricks on us. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve resolved to forget something, or to wipe it from my mind, only to find reminders of it around every corner.

In high school I couldn’t wait for college. By the middle of my Senior year, I was ready to be gone. I wanted a whole new life in a whole new place. I wanted to move beyond high school, to leave it in the past, and to embrace something entirely new. Looking back, I know this feeling of restlessness and my somewhat overwhelming feeling of needing to escape led to my obsession with moving out of state. As those of you who know me or who can recall old posts know, I did not leave my home state of Florida for college. I moved from Fort Lauderdale to Orlando – a whole three hours away. As soon as I started at UCF, I found reminders of home and my high school everywhere. I saw people from back home in my classes and walking around campus, my high school played the football states championship game in Orlando, and on and on. I felt like I’d never be far enough away from it all.

I cannot say that I felt the same when leaving UCF as I did when leaving my high school. I was so connected to UCF and to Orlando; my whole life was there. Yet, I finally achieved my goal of moving to a new state. As a friend of mine said the day before I left Florida for good, “You’ve finally done what you always said you wanted to do. That must feel great.” And it did, and it does. You learn things about yourself when you leave behind everything you’ve ever known and loved in order to pursue a dream – things that you’d never learn any other way.

I have grown and changed and become a new person in the few short weeks I’ve been here, but I’ve also been clinging to aspects of my life in Orlando. I’ve been wishing that I could have moved them here with me – my favorite UCF Starbucks, UCF’s beautiful campus that I knew like the back of my hand, my RA apartment, my level of comfort, everyone I care about. Recent events, however, have taught me that clinging to the past is the best way to ruin the present and to occlude the future. In some respects I’ve embraced my completely new life here, but under the surface, I know I’ve been desperately clutching at my comfortable UCF existence – at lunches with my older brother every week, at living mere feet from my best friend, at everything that made my life so perfect for the last few years.

I need to stop. I need to stop wishing that my UCF life will magically repeat itself here. I need to stop looking for people I know and love around every corner. I need to accept that everything is different now, even me.

And as I try to move forward, just when I think I’m no longer homesick or wishing to rewind time to the gloriousness of the summer, I’m reminded of all that I left behind in Orlando. An episode of House Hunters featured the Winter Park Farmer’s Market this afternoon, and I almost cried. I had to change the channel. I couldn’t take it – all the talk about people loving and enjoying the things I can no longer have, the things that are no longer a part of my life, the memories I want so desperately to be more than memories.

The other day I came across a quote while browsing my Pinterest feed.

You can’t start the next chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one.

It’s time for me to stop re-reading, revisiting, and attempting to rewind. It’s time for me to acknowledge the passage of time, the change of place, and the birth of a new me.

I suppose it’s time to let go.

What’s in a plan?

Last night I arrived at my Shakespeare class a few minutes early, and my professor began asking me about myself.  I told her all about UCF, its massive size, the English Department, living in Orlando, and my fear that the temperature in NJ has already dropped into the low 60s during the afternoons.  We eventually got onto the topic of my plans beyond Seton Hall.  I explained that I wanted to pursue a PhD and to become a college professor.  At this point the rest of my classmates began to arrive, and we ended our singular conversation.

As it happens, last night we did not participate in a “normal” class; rather, two directors of the Library came to discuss the many resources available to us as graduate students.  Because I’d already investigated these resources on my own, my mind began to wander.  I started to think about what Dr. Weisl said at our New Graduate Student Orientation: “You really need to start formulating a plan for your theses and plans after graduation.  Four semesters will be over before you realize it.  Don’t wait until the last minute to figure things out.”

This simple advice could possibly be one of the worst things I could have heard that day, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since.  I’m sure her advice was well intended and I’m sure that many of my classmates probably needed to hear it.  I, however, began planning my steps for post-SHU-graduation the day I decided to attend.  I’ve told you before I’m a planner.

Anyway, beset by a bout of nervousness and slight homesickness last night, I took to planning again.  Now I have a clear picture, something I can visualize in my head and work towards for the next two years. After tearing my plan from my notebook to pin above my desk as motivation, I began to wonder if perhaps I plan too much.  I felt uncomfortable.  Am I limiting myself with this plan?  Am I forcing myself into a box?  Am I setting myself up for failure, disappointment, problems?

I suppose I’ll never know the answers to those questions and for now I should probably stick to what I know – planning in comfort, planning to ease my nerves, planning for the future.  Let’s hope it all works out.

Welcome back.

Welcome back to the story of my life. Since my last post, I have packed my entire Orlando apartment into boxes, packed those boxes and my furniture into a cargo van, said goodbye to everyone I love in Orlando, eaten a last breakfast at my favorite Oviedo breakfast place (The Townhouse), and driven all those belongings as well as my parents home to Plantation. Over the past week, I’ve unpacked all those boxes from Orlando, sorted every possession I’ve ever owned into three categories (1. Take to New Jersey, 2. Keep but don’t take to New Jersey, 3. Throw away/Goodwill), broken two sewing machines, gotten a backache every day helping my mom set up her classroom for the first day of preschool, furnished an apartment via IKEA, bought and shipped a huge, ugly desk to South Orange, tried to keep in touch with my boyfriend who’s in Haiti for the week, and attempted not to lose my mind.  I have been mostly successful, but yesterday and last night, something came over me, and I couldn’t take it anymore.  I’m at home, the home I grew up in, with my family and I’m a little miserable.  I can’t figure out why.

Maybe because leaving Orlando meant leaving behind all that I know and love.  Maybe because sorting through all my silly possessions from the last 20-odd years of my life made me realize that I’m not a child anymore; maybe because, after hearing my boyfriend’s stories about the orphans he’s been working with in Haiti, I feel bad for being upset about anything in this comfortable life I lead.  Maybe because I’m actually terrified of this major change.  Right now it’s easy to pretend that it’s all going to be great.  I can say that I’m studying at Seton Hall without having to move to New Jersey.  I can say that I’m a Master’s student without having to put forth the effort and do the work.  I can make everything I want to happen happen in my head, but I’m starting to wonder (okay, falling back into wondering) if I can make it happen for real.

Yesterday I found out my apartment number for my new place in New Jersey. 15K.  That’s me.  Top floor, one bedroom.  I’m excited and ecstatic.  I’ve been waiting to find this information out forever it seems, but I also realize how lonely it could be.  15K.  Top floor.  One bedroom.

The day before that, I went to school with my mom and helped write out the kids’ names for cubby markers and door decorations.  I love going to school with my mom and playing with the kids in her class. I always have, but I realized as I looked over the list of names that I’ll probably never met this group of kids or the next.  I’ll be living across the country.

The day before that, I spent with my best friend.  We didn’t do much, just sat, talked, and went out for lunch, but we don’t ever have to do much.  It was a fabulous day, but as she walked out the door and we said goodbye, I realized it could be a very long while before we’re able to sit and talk and go out to lunch together, in the same city, in the same state, again.

It could be very lonely, you know. 15K.

I can’t pack everything.

I started packing my apartment today.  I’m not moving for another six days, but I know the next week is going to be crazy at work.  Lots of early mornings and long shifts aren’t exactly conducive to speedy packing, so any head start I can get now is going to be a big help.  I’ve been a little bit on edge the last few days – about pretty much everything.  I’ve got a lot going on, some big changes coming, and a bit of resistance starting to well up.  I’ve been so ready for this whole change, my move, starting grad school, everything, but as it draws nearer and nearer, I’m starting to realize that I may not be as ready as I thought I was.  I have so many attachments here in Orlando.  Some of them I’m not ready to let go of, and as I realize that time is ticking faster and faster, I seem to be clutching on stronger.  I guess I never considered just how deep my Orlando roots are.  It’s surprising after only four years, but I have a lot in this city – a lot that I want to pack and take with me but I can’t.

I guess I just have to come to terms with the fact that some of my attachments are stronger than I thought they were, stronger than I intended them to be, stronger than I think I’m ready to admit.

This is going to be a long week.

Maybe not so terrible after all.

Life has been pretty great lately.  Despite my many doubts, I successfully defended my thesis on Thursday.  Hooray.  It’s over.  I’m done.  Publication here I come.  Things seem to be falling into place a little bit more lately (and I mean, extremely lately – Did I forget to mention that I got denied from my dream school at 1:00am the morning of my defense?  Awesome, right).  Well, that was a blow, but at least after that, I’ve returned to my normal, generally successful self.  I found out that my thesis chair was genuinely disappointed about my slew of rejections which quelled my fears that he had written me a horrible recommendation.  I passed my thesis defense with only minor revisions to be made before final publication.  I made about 50 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to help feed the homeless in Orlando, and I spent a wonderful day at the park with a pretty great guy.  Then, to top off all of my happiness, my best friend and boyfriend organized a great little surprise dinner to celebrate my successful thesis defense.  All in all, things are looking up.  The sun is shining, and despite the terrible Florida heat that has already set in for the summer, I am happy.  I feel like I have grown and changed a lot in a short amount of time.  I think I can attack another round of grad school applications with a new perspective.  I think I can be happy about it and know that I am on my way, on my way to where I need to be.

I think I’ve found my faith again.