I started this blog as a way to share my experiences and adventures when I left Hawaii. But life got busy — as it is apt to do — and like many passion projects, it fell by the wayside. Recently though, I’ve been thinking more about how much I miss telling my stories here. So, the blog is officially back! And if you’re reading this, I thank you.
For the most part, my posts have been all about funny and/or silly things I’ve gone through along my journey: I saw snow for the first time! I discovered dollar stores! I accidentally flirted with a guy I thought was gay! This post is different — but I promise to get back to the funny stuff next time.
My first year and a half in Louisville often felt like an extended vacation. I was just prancing around, taking advantage of new opportunities that came my way. The answer to every invitation was a resounding, “Yes!” Want to check out new restaurants, bars or coffee shops? Yes, yes, yes! Want to attend an event or concert, or go on a road trip? Yes, yes, yes! I tried to soak up every new experience like a kid on a field trip. But in 2018, that field trip came to an abrupt halt.
In less than a month’s time, I’d broken up with the first guy I dated outside of Hawaii, lost my one consistent freelance writing gig, and had someone I saw on an almost-daily basis pass away suddenly. After all these things happened, I sat quietly, staring down at the city from the window of my 25th-floor apartment. And I came to a realization: SHIT JUST GOT REAL.
It became apparent that I wasn’t “new” to Louisville anymore. I’d formed real relationships with new people, gotten accustomed to my day-to-day activities, and felt every emotion under the sun. I was constantly thinking about what would come next — like if I’d move out of the state once my lease was up —but I’d failed to realize that the adventuring, vacation mode of my move had ended. I was living the life that I’d established here. It was time to look at everything a bit more seriously and make a conscious effort to ensure I was building the life I wanted to live.
So, I committed to participating in a program that requires me to be here for another year. (I had previously withdrawn my application because I wasn’t sure if I’d be moving before the year was up.) Though the fun and adventures won’t end — and I’ll always have travel plans — I’m going to focus on what’s happening in the here and now, rather than what could come next.
It’s like Jim Elliot said: “Wherever you are — be all there.”