trying again

So perhaps here I am trying again. Listening to a voice that has felt very silenced for a very long time. These past two years, adjusting to life in a new country that I was stubbornly uncertain about moving to in the first place, have been hard. Combine the general angst with my own standard sense of anxiety and you have what is close perhaps to a recipe for disaster. But I feel as though I have survived the worst of it, I feel as though I understand the bell jar scenario that Sylvia Plath wrote about, feel like I can understand an influx of blue sky and fresh air into a life that seems to have been lacking both for perhaps a long time.

It may help that friends from back home are starting to pick up and change locations, envisioning differences for themselves, new locations, new abodes. Feels now like everyone is starting to shift, like I am no longer missing everything that I left behind because what I left behind is slowly changing itself. It's easier to pull back out memories for a time, and put them back again knowing that they exist as a point in time. Rather than continually thinking about all of the memories that I was no longer making by being separated from the place (New York) and the people (everyone from San Diego to Philadelphia to New York to England) that I don't think I was at all ready to leave when I did go.

But I think that now, two years into this new life on a new continent, I am finally interested in getting to know this life, make a place in this city in this country. Experience what it has to offer. Rather than miss what I already knew my previous cities offered. I think I'm excited again. I think I'm sensing potential. In both myself and who I can continue to become. Here or anywhere.

I'm ready to feel like an adult again, instead of stuck in a fearful stubbornness that rendered me immobile. And hang onto this excitement for living instead of succumbing to some misguided belief that being an adult means feeling perpetually stuck.