A Week to Remember

Almost three weeks ago, I hopped into a mini van with 7 friends for a week-long journey of adventure and exploration around the south island of New Zealand.  Packing up the van with all our packs and food was a struggle in and of itself but we somehow managed to cram all 8 of us into that green mini van, later dubbed "Big Al".  A mere 3 hours later, we set off on our journey ready than ever to take on whatever challenge headed our way. 

Our first stop: Te Anau.  We arrived at our campsite around 11 p.m. and what an unbelievably beautiful, warm night it was.  We managed to set up the tents (the 6 of us girls sharing the 4 person tent and the 2 boys sharing a cozy 2 person tent) without any problems and happily headed straight to bed.

The following morning we took a short walk to the picturesque Lake Te Anau near our campground. The view of the lake outlined by the snow-capped mountains was breathtaking.  It was at this moment that I started to realize the beautiful journey that lay ahead of us, and the open road that would take us into more adventure than I had ever imagined.

We packed up the van and hit the road for Milford Sound.  About an hour into the drive, we heard the sound of the ever- familiar pitter patter on the roof of the van.  Passing by a gorgeous field with towering mountains in the background, we were urged to make a stop, mid-rain and proceeded to frolic and play a game of touch football accompanied by plenty of laughter. 

The rain proceeded to pick up steam and we were forced to retreat back into the van.  Looking ahead we saw a gloomy picture of fog and clouds covering the sky, forcing us to reassess our plans.  We unanimously decided that it would not be worth the drive all the way there to end up disappointed in the lack of scenery we would be able to see.  Without skipping a beat, we flipped around and headed in the direction we had just came.

So began the grueling 7-hour drive to Fox and Franz Joseph glaciers.  We of course had to make a pit stop in Queenstown for a bite at the famous Fergberger, a very popular burger joint renowned for its tasty and mighty in size burgers, accompanied by chips (fries) and aioli sauce of course.  As if we weren't full enough, we decided to top off the meal with some delicious gelato.

As the rain came pouring down, I felt my nerves bubbling up as I realized it was my turn to drive.  Mustering up my confidence, I hopped in the driver side and headed up the curviest, steepest road we had seen thus far.  I managed to safely maneuver my way around the curves and loosened up a bit once the road started to straighten out.

Looking back on this moment, I realize that this marked another milestone in overcoming one of my fears, the fear of driving an SUV (something I'm not used to) packed full of people, on the opposite side of the road, in the dark and rain.  Needless to say, by the end of the trip I was feeling pretty confident in my driving abilities and even found myself eagerly volunteering to take the wheel on many occasions the rest of the trip.

About three hours away from our campsite, we realized the tank was running low and it would probably be wise to fill up.  We stopped at a gas station only to find the gas pump was closed and we would have to pay $20 for them to turn it on.  Discovering that this was the last gas station until our destination, we were forced to pay the fee, only to find that a simple switch had to be flipped to turn on the pump.  A bit disgruntled, we continued on our journey in the pouring rain.  Thankfully, just as we arrived at our campsite, the rain stopped and we were able to set up camp.

Waking up the next morning, we set out to cook our first real meal: porridge.  We decided to spice things up a bit with canned peaches.  Being the determined person I am, I set out to wrestle with the can using a can opener that no one knew how to use.  And the inevitable happened: I managed to slice my finger, instigating the domino effect of injuries that ensued (more on this later).  After about thirty long minutes, the bleeding finally let up, and we finished up our generous meal, packed up the van and headed off to the glaciers.

Since we didn't pay to do a guided tour on the glaciers, we were limited to how far we could go near the glaciers, which ended up being a pretty disappointing distance away.  Thankfully, both glaciers were surrounded by absolutely stunning mountains that made the short hike totally worth it.  At Franz Josef, we saw beautiful waterfalls and a spectacular ice cave that we were able to venture near.

We then made our way to Greymouth, where we stayed with Sam's cousin, a fellow American who had studied abroad ten or so years ago, fell in love with a Kiwi and the rest is history.  Not to mention, Sam had never met her prior to this trip.  We enjoyed a wonderful homemade dinner of lamb, potatoes, salad and ice-cream.  Sam's cousin even let us stay in their camper van for the night, giving us a nice break from sleeping on the ground.  

The next morning, we hit the road to head off to our next adventure destination: Punakaiki pancake rocks and blackwater rafting, which was essentially tubing down a river in a cave under looking a ceiling covered with glow worms.

I was a little worried about the inevitable darkness that comes with being in a cave, but instead I found myself in awe of the darkness that was illuminated by the glow of thousands of glowworms above me as I slowly floated down the river.  After getting out of the caves, we drove to a seal colony nearby, just in time for sunset.  We then made our way to our campsite for the night.

The next morning we woke up to find that Sam was in quite a lot of pain from a mysterious tailbone injury (more on this later) and we began to reassess our plans which had been to go to Abel Tasman National Park and tramp (hike) for 3 days.  Not wanting to hold us behind, Sam decided to wait until we got there and see how she felt then. 


As we edged closer to Abel Tasman, I began to realize I had my own set of problems.  I had noticed some red painful bumps that I initially thought were sandfly bites, but I soon realized that they were not.  We swung by the nearest medical center and soon enough the doctor had diagnosed me with shingles, the adult form of chicken pox.

How in the world did this happen? I still have no idea.  But from what I was told they can appear simply from a run-down immune system and having not gotten much sleep and the fact that I had been sick a couple weeks prior to the trip, it seemed somewhat logical.  Still, shingles, something I never imagined I would have unless I was nearing my 60s.  Even having the prescribed medication did not ease my worries, but I was determined to not let this bring me down.



After getting out of my appointment and feeling pretty distraught, the group encouraged me to sneak into a nearby hostel and take a much-needed shower, which was just what I needed to bring my spirits back up.  Sam was feeling a lot better at this point in time as well so we continued onward to Abel Tasman and began our 3-day tramp.

The first day we raced the sun in order to set up camp before nightfall, which didn't happen of course.  And because of high tide and a simple misjudgment, Michelle and I got our hiking boots and socks soaked by the incoming tide, which left us cold and worried about how in the world we would dry them out.  We decided to hang the socks over the fire, only to find that socks do in fact burn.  Our hiking boots thankfully managed to mostly dry the next morning sitting out on the beach.

Over the course of the next two days, I was in awe of the surplus of stunning views.  From the sandy white beaches and beautifully blue water to the mossy jungle, Abel Tasman turned out to be one of the prettiest places I've been to in New Zealand thus far.

Despite the group's struggles, we finally managed to make it to a campsite before nightfall, set up the tents without any problems and sat down for a less than satisfying meal of mushy spaghetti but we were one happy bunch regardless.

 The last day, as we hastily made our way to the beach where the water taxi would take us back to our van, we realized that the time we had allotted for (as advised by the lady at the information desk) was not nearly enough time to make it there.  A bit stressed and on edge, we reached a hut thankfully to find a very helpful employee who rebooked our water taxi to pick us up at a different beach.

By this point, we were all exhausted and ready to get back.  I was extremely happy to see the water taxi in the distance, but when the ride back ended up taking two hours this initial happiness disippated.  At this point, Sam was in a lot of pain from her mysterious tailbone injury and was doing all that she could to fight back the tears.

 We finally made it back to the van and realized Sam needed to be taken to the medical center.  So back we went to the same one we had been at for my shingles situation.  After examining Sam, the doctor told her she had an abscess (caused from an ingrown hair) and needed to have surgery.  I came into the operating room with Sam and the doctors proceeded to slice open the abscess and drain the fluid.

After ten minutes of excruciating pain, it was finally over.  They put on a dressing and told Sam that she would have to get it changed every day for 7 days.  Despite the ordeal, Sam managed to put on a brave and smiling face as we hopped back into the van determined to find a hostel for the night.


Thankfully, we managed to find one and got some much needed rest.  The next morning we made our way to Kaikoura, making a pit stop for a short walk to a waterfall where we witnessed about 15 or so seal pups playfully swimming in the water.  It was such an unbelievable sight and it definitely lifted the spirits of the group.


Our next destination was Kaikoura, a beautiful coastal town nestled between snow-capped mountains and the beautifully blue water of the Pacific Ocean.  This was yet another place where I was in awe of the pure beauty that surrounded me.

After breezing through this oasis, we made our way to Hanmer Springs, for much-needed time at the hot springs.  However, it was here that we found out Sam would need to get another surgery once back in Dunedin.  At this point, we all knew that we had to get back as soon as possible and the only thing that was between us and getting back was a 7-hour grueling drive, that Sam would be in pain for the majority of.  And to top it off, a mere two hours away from Dunedin, we managed to get pulled over by the cops.  Bad luck indeed.

Looking back on this week and all that went awry, I can see how anyone reading this may think boy, what a disaster of a week.  In all honesty, I thought this myself at one point or another during the course of the week.  We had definitely had our fair share of misfortunes and bad luck, but I would not trade this week for anything in the world.

It was a week packed full of adventure and one that I will never forget.  All the crummy times made me realize how valuable the littlest things are and how it is so easy to get swept up in the negatives and miss out on all the good passing by you each and every second.

We had managed to see the sheer beauty of the south island in one short week as well as experience the inevitable misfortunes one encounters on a road trip.  But I will never forget the memories made on this trip, all the laughter, all the tears and all the mood swings in between.  In one short week, I learned the value of friendship, support and encouragement.  Looking back on this week, I can't help but smile at all the adventures we had as a group, as an unconventional family of adventure world travelers and boy, what a week to remember it was.

Remnants of the Past

As I sit here, almost two months into my journey abroad, I cannot help but reflect upon the past.  This weekend, I traveled to Christchurch, a city that was devastated by a 7.1 magnitude earthquake two years ago.  I was utterly astounded and saddened to see the destruction and rubble of the buildings and how downcast the city was.  It was a heavy feeling walking downtown, seeing hundreds of stores still closed and how big of a scar the earthquake left upon the city.  

It made me think about how long it can take to recover from something as devastating as a natural disaster and how the scars, the remnants of past experience never truly vanish.  I truly believe our past plays a significant role in shaping the present but how do we find the balance between the awareness of our past experiences and the temptation to linger in what cannot be undone?

Examining all that I have experienced thus far abroad, glancing over the pictures of the places I've been and the people I've met, I find myself lost in thought over the memories already made.  My time here is flying by in the blink of an eye, leaving me breathless and anxious to capture each and every moment. But lately, I've noticed myself not simply glancing back at what has already been but lingering in the past, fretting over what cannot be undone.  

I find myself holding onto the experiences, the memories, the good the bad, the struggles...the remnants of the past.  Though fragmented, these bits of my past still shape who I am.  But how do we define who we are today without holding too tightly onto our beliefs engrained in us at a young age?  How do we freely choose to be who we want to be and avoid being enveloped by our conditioned mind?  

I'm beginning to think that my past has more of a grip on me than I would like it to.  The old recordings, the shadows of my past seem to come flying at me, often times out of nowhere and almost always at the worst of times.  Being in New Zealand, I would like to say I have been able to completely strip myself of these old, self-sabotaging beliefs: the "you're not good enough" recording being the strongest.

This voice surfaces at times when I am feeling a bit off balanced, but not in the sense of a healthy balance.  It comes when I am struggling to control the eating, the exercising, the structure of my everyday life.  When this order is disrupted by external forces beyond my control or by my own doing, I find myself fighting against this bully in my head, who sits there shaking his head at me for being weak, for not living up to his impossible standards of perfection.  It is at times like these when I wonder if my past will always be this shadow trailing behind me, pestering me to turn around and confront it once and for all.  

Are these remnants of my past, these struggles: the eating disorder, the depression, the anxiety, that I've endured for so long ever going to leave me once and for all?  Are we all just victims of our past, trapped in an endless cycle of self-sabotaging behaviors and beliefs? The optimistic part of me would like to think not but when these beliefs, these all too familiar nagging voices reappear, it feels like I'm right back to square one struggling to remain present.   

Maybe, we all have these scars to remind us of where we've been, not where we're destined to go.  Maybe it is up to our own choosing as to how we let these scars influence us now, in the present.  Without these struggles, how would we grow after all?  Maybe it's about acknowledging our past, being aware of the scars we carry and forgiving ourselves for the pain we've caused ourselves and others.

 I'm beginning to think these remnants, these scars of the past are apart of us all, as a subtle reminder of the challenges we've had to face.  Yet, to hold onto these past struggles would be a disservice to ourselves.  In order to fully experience the life we have here and now, we must let go of the chains of the past that bind us, that keep us stuck.  

As always though, this ongoing process is easier said than done.  From my experience, I initially felt this weight lifted off of me upon coming to New Zealand.  For a good while, I no longer felt a cloud of depression over my head, nor did I feel the need to control or the feelings of insecurity and doubting.  And it felt good, better than good, to be free of these chains.  But, now I am realizing I tucked these chains away, for safe keeping, and now I am fighting to keep them detached.

Though I may not be ready to throw the chains away once and for all, I am ready to keep pushing on, each day, forging ahead to the best of my abilities.  When these negative thoughts arise, I shall work toward bringing awareness to them, but to not let them take ahold of me.  These thoughts are merely thoughts, beliefs I've grown accustomed to.  This process of breaking these patterns of self-sabotage and self-doubting is a long one but I remind myself with the simple notion that I am doing the best that I can, each and every day, and that in and of itself is enough.  

A Leap of Faith

As my feet edged closer to the ledge, I took one deep breath, threw my arms over my head, and hurled myself 43 meters off of the bridge.  What exactly was I thinking at that very moment? I cannot tell you.  All I knew was that there was no turning back.  And the funny thing was, I had no desire to.  I had come this far, worked up the courage to take this plunge, and for the amount of fear I had anticipated, I felt surprisingly calm.  

The excitement coursing through my veins was enough to get me over that ledge, and as I dove toward the brilliantly blue water of the river coursing beneath me, I realized that I had done it.  I had overcome my fear.

Never in all my life had I imagined myself willingly taking such a huge leap of faith.  It was as if I was a bystander, an observer of the whole scenario, simply watching this assured girl hurl herself off of the bridge.  It was as if I had floated out of my body, momentarily, gaping at the spectacle before me.  The best way to describe this experience is to compare it to that of a dream, a far off reality, but a dream so tangible and reachable all at the same time.

Since coming to New Zealand, this dreamlike feeling has enveloped me, leaving me with a sense of wonder and disbelief at where this dream has taken me thus far.  Before coming here and as much as I hate to admit, I did not view myself as the adventurous, go get em', live in the moment type.  Sure, I have imprinted myself with a tattoo as a subtle reminder of this motto I am ever-striving to live my life by, but this simple inscription on my shoulder has never felt real until now. 

 Living for today, in all its simplicity, has come to take on a whole new meaning for me.  I have already begun to notice a change in myself, a change I can say I have welcomed with open and excited arms.  I've noticed myself taking more chances, being more adventurous, and really living out this life mantra.  A simple mantra...yet one that takes conscience choosing and constant reminder.  

To live in the moment means to trust yourself fully and completely.  It means to trust the choices and chances you take each and every moment.  This trust extends into all aspects of life: trusting others, trusting God, trusting the universe, trusting the unseen, and finally and often times most difficult, trusting when the outcome, the result is not yet known.  

Yet, this ever-pervasive fear in our society and within ourselves has prevented us from fully embracing all that life has to offer.  We hold so tightly to this fear, whatever that fear may be, and we try to control each and every aspect of our lives.  This control gives us a sense of security but what is lost in the process is the natural flow of life.  We are meant to flow with life, trusting in every which way it sends us, but more often than not we are unable to loosen the tight grip.  We hold tightly to every routine, to everything that makes us feel safe, secure, stable.  

But each day this stability is compromised even by the slightest hiccup in our path.  So what do we do? We hold on even tighter.  But what would happen if we were to just let go?  To let go of this apprehension, this fear of not being in control?  I can say from experience that the feeling of not being in control is a scary feeling, so scary that I find myself fighting to regain my grip on anything I can get ahold of.

But what if I was to push through this initial fear?  Would I find myself trusting in the process as time went on?  In all honesty, I do not have the answers to most of these questions.  I think all that I can do is continue to acknowledge the moments when this fear arises and consciously choose to sit with that fear.  Then, in doing so, I can either choose to turn back or keep on going.  

As past experience has shown me, to keep on going, heading into the unknown, taking that leap of faith, has led to experiences far beyond my imagination.  Coming to New Zealand was a huge leap of faith in and of itself.  Not only that, but the experiences thus far have been far beyond the bubble of my comfort zone.  Each leap of faith I've taken has led to such a feeling of euphoria, accomplishment, and confidence that I can only trust that those to come will do that and more.  So in this moment, I choose to trust the path I have taken, to loosen the grip of control, and to keep moving, plunging ahead into the thralls of this spectacular adventure.

The Koru

The Koru is a Maori spiritual symbol meaning new life, creativity, personal growth and new beginnings.  This New Zealand fern plant represents the unfolding of new life, a subtle reminder that everything is reborn and continues.  It represents renewal and hope for the future.

The Koru is not only symbolic of this journey I am embarking on but of the life I have left behind.  Standing on the precipice, I left behind my family and friends as the fate of my home stood on the brink of disaster.  The Waldo Canyon fire swept through the foothills at a pace so rapid I am grateful for the life it did spare...the life of my family and friends.

The flames charged down the foothills behind my home, urging us to leave behind the majority of our material possessions.  I will never forget the image of the massive flames flickering in the rearview mirror as we drove away looking back on what would be the last view of our home and life as we knew it.  The fire took away my home, leaving behind only rubble and ash. The destruction this fire evoked will not be forgotten for many years to come.  The hiking trails I grew so accustomed to and maybe even took advantage of are now gone and exist only in my memory of life before the fire.

Leaving for New Zealand, not knowing if all was lost but expecting the worst, I drew upon a courage and strength I can only say came from something far powerful than I.  Fearful and unsure of what would happen to my family, I did all that I could do.  I put on a brave face, told them I loved them and walked to my gate without looking back.

Not knowing what I was leaving behind but knowing that what lay ahead could not wait any longer.  Going to New Zealand in the midst of all the destruction and hopelessness was nothing short of a challenge.  I boarded that plane, unsure of what I was leaving behind but sure of the fact that what lay ahead would restore the damage done.

I sit here now, two weeks into my journey and thankful of all that I have been given.  When something so precious and dear is taken away, new growth is just around the corner.  This journey has come at a time so precarious yet I do not for one minute regret taking this leap into the unknown.  I have lost a lot, but I have gained a lot as well.

So long have I waited for this opportunity to discover myself and to break free of the insecurities and doubts that have for so long plagued me.  The confidence I have felt these past few weeks since coming to New Zealand feels so right and yet so new.  For so long I've waited to shed these layers of fear and foreboding.  New Zealand has given me the opportunity for all that I've dreamed of: personal growth, self discovery, new beginnings and renewal.

The destruction of my home has left me with a sense of sadness and mourning, yet this despair has slowly transformed itself into an acceptance of that of which is beyond my control.  Life is constantly flowing, moving, transforming from moment to moment, leaving behind those who putter around, trapped in what has already happened and what cannot be undone.

 Life is ever changing, shifting and pulling us this way and that and our only job is to flow with life, acknowledging the moments when we resist and releasing this apprehension.  Change is inevitable and we can either put up a fight or welcome all that life has to offer just around the bend.  In this moment, I leave behind the destruction and rubble, welcome the momentous juncture of life's ever changing seasons and breathe in all that life has yet to unfold.

Waiting

There is a time and a place for everything.  Each and every major event, change or catastrophe has a time and a place.  The reasoning as to why, especially when innocent lives and treasured possessions are involved, is usually a mystery.  Such is the case of the raging Waldo Canyon fire that beckons ever closer to my doorstep, the wind now the director of tragedy.  The blaze began just yesterday and has remained a force to be reckoned with, already having destroyed 2,000 acres.  When the plumes of smoke transformed into a fiery orange, momentarily illuminating the sky, an eeriness swept over the foothills.  Never in my 20 some years have I ever sat so close to what looked like impending doom.  

I still have yet to fully grasp the gravity of the whole scenario: fire begins, evacuations next, packing up my room and what I can not live without, and of course the waiting.  Still in the voluntary evacuation zone, I remain at home with my family...waiting, waiting with cars packed ready to go, ready to leave our house behind if the time comes.  Thankfully, I had just finished packing for New Zealand so I had that part taken care of.  And my sister had just returned from Costa Rica (not quite what she wanted to come home to).

What happens in the next hour, 2 hours, 72 hours, is completely up in the air.  Never knowing how things are going to turn out in the end.  The waiting, waiting to leave, waiting for more updates, is like waiting for a ticking time bomb to go off.  But then it hits you: that whatever is going to happen is going to happen.  You save what you can and do all that you can.  The rest is up to God and nature.  

But, with 20 plus fires burning across the beautiful state of Colorado, it's hard to see the silver lining in the cloud (literally).  These cities, these mountains, my home, all seem to be going up in flames and little can be done.  But you slowly begin to realize that nature will, indeed run its course.  Homes and sadly lives may not be spared though, a tough pill to swallow for all.  

But, deep down, we all know these types of things are meant to happen.  Whether you want to call it fate, God, nature, or a lesson to learn, this fire and those elsewhere, are happening for a reason.  The cause may never be known and that is unsettling for the vast majority of people.  But maybe the underlying reasoning for this fire, this destruction, is to make room for new growth.  Maybe it really is “out with the old, in with the new.”  More often than not, getting rid of the old is a scary, frightening, and messy process.  

But without this destruction, maybe the new wouldn't be quite so stunningly beautiful, a breadth of fresh air, or a reassuring gesture that life does go on.  We may not know what is on the other side of the mountain, so to speak, or what the new will bring, but we do know, deep down, this is the natural cycle of life.  

It is the fear of the unknown, the fear of this change, whether that change be positive or negative.  Not quite sure of how things will turn out, we prepare, as best we can.  But when the preparing is over, the waiting begins.  And in that waiting, a knowingness comes forth: that waiting can only be done moment by moment.  As is life, we take each day, moment by moment, breadth by breath, living and loving just the same, sometimes waiting for the destruction to end and the construction to begin.  

Such is this fire a metaphor for this upcoming change in my own life.  In waiting for this change, this chance to go abroad for a semester, the days seem to pass ever so slowly and with the fire, an unsettling feeling has come over me.  But I realize that in this moment I can do no more than what I am doing.  I'm done preparing, and now I am waiting, waiting for this huge change in my life to happen.  If we live moment to moment, holding dear to our loved ones, our secureness, our presence with the moment, maybe the waiting is no more and our heart and mind open up to what we have in the present moment.  

Ready as Ever

In less than one week, I will be traveling 7,500 miles away into the land of the unknown, or what some may know as Hobbiton (yes it is now a real place).  I feel like I am on the precipice of a huge change, something I don't ever think I'll feel 100% ready for.  But, this word, "precipice," does not accurately describe this amazing opportunity for adventure that lay ahead.  I've waited my entire life for something like this, the chance to break free from the habitual life I've been living.

The opportunity to go to a completely different country for 6 months still scares me but not for all the reasons you may think.  This fear, this anxiety, of the unknown has shown itself to be the fear of being all that I can be.  It's the fear of truly discovering myself, my passion in life and delving into the real me, for I am unsure of all that I will find.

These past few days, as I edge closer and closer to that short 13-hour plane ride, I find myself becoming more and more steadfast in my decision to study abroad.  Months on end of waiting, filling out documents, applying for a visa, packing, preparing...is all coming to an end.  Preparation has taken some time and although my suitcases still stand empty, my secureness and assuredness grows more and more each day until soon, I pray, these fears shall diminish altogether.  I am standing on the ledge of a huge sweeping change and I am beginning to realize...I am as ready as I am ever going to be.  I am ready to go out into the world and really experience the life I've always wanted.

I know there will be challenges along the way, but I'm determined to brush these bumps in my path aside and journey on, headfirst into the adventure of my life.  I leave for New Zealand in 6 short days...a mere school/work week away.  I will literally be traveling into the future, almost a day ahead of my current location.  I will be living in a flat with 4 strangers (3 international students and one "Kiwi"-slang for a New Zealand native).

I will be on the complete opposite side of the globe reverting back into a chilly winter season.  I will be away from all that is familiar, away from friends and my family, who has made this trip possible.  But on the other side of the globe, another world away, an adventure awaits and I am ready as ever to take the plunge.   

Perfection in an Imperfect World

Starting this very sentence is a challenge for me right now.  I'm sitting here, fingers hovering over the keyboard, debilitated by the words I have not yet put up on the screen.  This is perfection at its finest...or in my opinion, worst.  The inability to even begin a blog post or a paper, without thoroughly thinking through all possibilities toward reaching that ever-sought after state: perfection. 

This word has been in my vocabulary all my life, a word pestering me at all times.  Now I've always known...let's rephrase that: my ego has always been aware of this pest tampering around in my thoughts, pulling at my emotions.  Being perfect is something my ego latched onto and would not let go of for the life of it.  It has literally drained me of my happiness, my sense of peace, my very presence with each and every moment.  It has become so embedded in the web of habitual thoughts of the subconscious. 

As I've slowly begun the process of rewiring my brain and detaching these thought patterns from one another, I find it harder and more challenging each day.  After 20 years of forming these connections, my ego is putting up a fight.  This is the state it has known: disappointment, discontentment, frustration, anxiety, and depression.  Looking back on these "dark ages," I find myself saddened by the wasting away of so many years.  I spent so much time in a state of unhappiness that I honestly didn’t know what happiness was like.  Sure, I tasted it every once in a while, but the majority of my time was spent in this depressing state.

I've since realized that this happiness has always existed inside of me, though buried by the constant suppression of it.  It was nothing I could go out and get from the world.  I couldn’t get it from food, from relationships, from boys, or from success.  I begun to realize that happiness, peace and contentment are states determined by my conscious choosing. 

Gaining this newfound sense of control was both liberating and imprisoning though.  Now let me explain.  Up until the point of my "awakening" (as I like to call it), I had maneuvered through life pretty much in constant pity of my life as I knew it.  I constantly succumbed to the "poor me" voice and "I'm not good enough" mantra.  I lived heavily in the past or the future, but never in the present.  Life was always, kind of a drag for me.  I was living in an all-engulfing cloud that would only lift from time to time.  I was sort of just getting by, not enjoying the life I have been given.

Then, a little over a year ago, I had had enough.  I was done sinking further and further down into the hole of depression.  I began to really delve into my spirituality and began to find out what this word meant for me.  Since then, I have become aware of my true immortal nature.  I know now that spiritually in its essence, means connecting with that part of you, the wise, all-knowing bit of God inside of you and reclaiming that as yours.  We all have this inside of us and you can’t get it from anything in this ever-disappointing world.  So, this was quite the change you see. I felt alive, with an energy I had never felt before.  Had I finally reached the state of perfection I had been working toward my entire life?  Not at all.  All that has changed is my mindstate. 

Since this time, I have grown so much spiritually and emotionally.  Now, I don’t constantly feel like my inner peace, my feelings of contentment are ruled by passing thoughts or moods.  This is not to say these thoughts, specifically perfection, never surface, because they do…daily.  I’m just learning to deal with it and accept this feeling of perfection a little better each day.  None of this has been easy; in fact it’s been the most challenging year of my life.  I’d like to think it’s because I’m finally growing and learning about myself but sometimes it feels like I’m still stuck in the old habitual patterns of my mind. 

           

Back then, I was too skinny, too flat-chested, too quiet, too insecure.  Now I'm too big, too curvy, too greedy, too expressive.  Notice the difference?  It's called wanting what I don't have.  It's also called the misbelief that the grass is always greener on the other side.  Whichever way you look at it, I have for the majority of my life been in a state of discontentment.  Always wanting less or more, bigger or smaller, better or worse.  In other words, a state of imbalance, as I like to refer to it now. 

Balance is a tricky thing though...it means balancing my desire for perfection with my feelings of inadequacy.  It means giving up the attachment to either side of the spectrum.  Neither digging into the past, nor reaching for the future.  It means existing in the now, in the state of imperfection, accepting the imperfections of myself, of others and of the world in which we live in. 

The “imprisoning” part of my awakening (sounds ironic right?) has been the awareness and desire to be all that I truly was made to be, thus fueling my perfectionist standards.  I now want to be more aware, more insightful, more “awakened”.  I want to be a better meditator, a better person, kinder, less greedy, less attached.  I feel this strong urge to help people, which isn’t a bad thing, but my perfectionism takes it to a different level.  I want to in blatant terms, change people, awaken them to their true nature, as well as awaken them to the reality of this world.  I want people to know and believe what I believe, but that’s just the perfectionist in me talking. 

What “I”, the real I, in me really wants, is to see this massive change in humanity, that begins with me and with you.  I see all these horrible things happening in our world: control, power, greed, and I can’t help but come to the conclusion that as of right now, our world is in a massive state of imperfection. 

But how can I expect perfection from myself or from others when we’re living in an imperfect world?  Maybe it's about just doing the best we can with what we have.  Maybe it’s about accepting in ourselves those feelings of inadequacy and translating that to acceptance of the imperfect state we live in.  I think it’s about becoming aware of our imperfections, both in ourselves and in the world outside of us, and accepting them, not trying to control them.  For once, I can finally say that I am good enough just the way I am, and that in and of itself is something.