Milenka, and others

Oh my goodness, how I miss my apartment, my "Hola Emili!"s, and my Milenka. And dude, what's with no one around here knowing how to get their drink on? I miss it.

I've applied to a number of jobs so far, most of which have come back saying, "You're overqualified," or something like that. How about you let me decide that for myself? If I'm applying to be a fry cook at McDonald's with a bachelor's degree and a mountain of references and great work experience, who are you to tell me that I should be applying for something better? I had planned on it, but I wanted to get a job with you and work hard for you until I could find something better. But I suppose you're looking for the low-lifes whose goals in life are to rise up to swing-shift manager at the local McD's, eh? Fine, maybe I am overqualified. Still pisses me off a bit. It makes getting a short-term job to pay off debts and plan a trip really difficult. But whatev.

Looking back on Spain I came to a few conclusions. First, I grew up. Holy cow, did I grow up. I think it came from renting my own apartment, buying my own food, making my own friends, holding my own (albeit ineffective) job, etc. Then there was the alcohol. It's hard to believe that a few intoxicated nights can make you feel older and wiser... well, okay, it's not hard to believe. One morning of the vodka runs makes you sit up and really think about your drinking. Makes you wiser. I learned about allowing alcohol, but not using it. There's a huge difference.

Second, I learned about myself. I was texting with a friend and we both said almost the same thing, though it was arrived at through different circumstances. Peace just came one day. Well, not even one day. It was like, I looked back after a couple of months near the end of Spain and thought, that's weird, I'm so okay with myself that I feel honestly at peace. I've been able to bide my time before, but never without anxiety. The first four months were hard. The last two or three... damn easy. And it was never anything anyone did for me. It just came.

Third, I learned about friends. I learned that you don't just slam doors and burn bridges, despite what hurts. I learned that recurring bummers are manageable. And once having found someone to connect with, it's a good idea to make a manageable, working relationship with them, not one in which you ride around on a high-and-mighty horse in hopes of teaching lessons and keeping a perfect friendship once the friend grovels on her metaphorical knees. There is no such thing. People come in and out of our lives for a reason, and having someone in our life who fits you well, despite her bumpy English, is not something to banish from life. :) It's something to invite into life and enjoy, for as long as it wants to stay. All metaphors aside, keep good, human friends. They make mistakes--hence the human part--but always remember you make them too. I sure have.

Also, I learned to be alone. This goes with learning about myself, but it is a specific part of it that makes me happy. I've done it before. After a boyfriend in my sophomore year, I went a full year and a half without dating anyone. And I came out on the other side ready for love, perhaps even a little yearning, maybe desperate. This time around, 8 months and a whole lot of growing up later, I'm coming out on the other side single and singing. I don't despise dating by any means, but I don't have an empty ache of need eating me away until I find someone to curl up against. It's always nice to have that, but I'm not getting eaten with a need for it. I look forward to the dating world with patience, rather than the usual wariness I was approaching it with for years. My bitterness has rolled off my body like waves of shadows and I no longer feel the need for it to create barriers. I'm in control of myself enough that I don't have to make the external barriers anymore.

And what does all this mean now that I'm home? I'll tackle it in the same order. First, being more grown up has meant being more stable back at home. No longer am I anxiety-ridden. Everything is so much more manageable. And even my parents have noticed the change.

Second, yeah, peace came and it feels great. But also, I'm learning that peace has to be maintained, which isn't always easy when you feel isolated and directionless. It takes a little work and understanding to keep the warmth of peace where it curls up somewhere below your breastbone. It won't just reside there forever. Sometimes you have to offer it incentives and reasons to stay. And finding those reasons to stay involves knowing yourself. Without knowing my limits and my tendencies, I would not be able to keep up with this peace.

The third item, learning about friends, hasn't fully transferred over yet. Why? Because my friend base is totally changing. I'm geographically separated from most of my friends and the ones that are left and close are getting married and having kids. But even with that, I have brought something home with me. When Kate texts me for an address and says, "I miss you," I tell her I miss her right back and promise to come see her next time I pass near Othello where she and her husband live. I love sometimes being over the top, being so caring that people stop and think, "This is my brother's ex-girlfriend; she has no more stake in the family, so where is all the kindness coming from?" I appreciate the attention that is returned and have learned that the only way to foster deeper relationships is to give time to it. Comfortable, well-spent, honest time. Even if it just means texting to say, I love you, little girl. She's gonna have a brighter day.

And finally, being in Idaho Falls has helped me realize that just because you live in the same city as your parents or relatives does not mean that you automatically have a support group. Being alone means in all senses. And I can handle that. I did it in Ecuador, I did it in Spain, and now I do it here right in Idaho Falls. I've learned (though still need LOTS of practice) a new way to communicate and it makes me approach everything like a new person. I'm redefining my relationships on all sides--with my mom, my dad, my brothers, and others. And while I am learning how to give support and sometimes getting it back, the biggest, most important, and definitely most necessary change is that I've learned being alone doesn't mean lonely... it means being independent, standing on my own two feet, flying with my own two wings, being whole within myself. Alis volat propriis.

Now, this all sounds well and good, right? It's not over. It's an on-going process. Just like trying to invite the peace in to stay, I must continually invite everything else that is so new to me to stay a while, let me get used to its presence, create a permanent residence for the healthy lifestyle in my life. This lifestyle doesn't just come in and need no maintenance--it needs care and cuddling. And most of all, practice. Thank god that life is just one big practice ring. Let's dive in!