sea level

I drove to the beach in an effort to find some clarity. The chilly salt air stung, and I retreated as far as I could into my winter coat, a lone huddled mass on the long stretch of concrete. As I bundled up against the cold and spitting rain, I watched the ocean. The same old waves crested and fell again and again, one after the other, displaying at once their strength and transience. The water haphazardly lapped at the grimy and windwhipped rocks below my dangling feet. Beneath the threatening sky and relentless wind, the ocean seemed tired. I felt I could relate.

Ten months ago, I moved to Colorado with grand aspirations. I was going to start over. I was going to figure out who I was. I was going to prove to myself that I still had the social stamina and emotional wherewithall to confront a set of completely alien surroundings and transform them into a place that I could call home. But I didn't count on longing for the ocean. I didn't count on desperately missing my friends and family. And I certainly didn't count on my career sending me right back the way I came. So I decided to pack everything up, drive 3000 miles across the country and dump myself right back into a life that less than a year ago, I left behind for some very good reasons.

Surprisingly enough, not much has changed for me in Rhode Island. Despite filling my time almost to excess, I've been feeling insecure and anxious and alone. I've been questioning whether I actually accomplished any of the goals I had for myself in Colorado. I've been blaming myself inside and out for choices and judgements that are out of my control, and I've found myself wrung out, exhausted, and feeling hauntingly close to the way I did a year ago. Bla bla bla.

And you know, for a while there I thought that I messed up. I thought that it meant I didn't trust myself any more than I did last May. I thought it meant that all the time I spent out west was a complete wash. But I was wrong. The fact is, I did change. I stopped being the person I thought everyone wanted me to be, and I embraced the qualities that make me who I really am. In fact, I think I'm confused and hurt and overwhelmed precisely because I've learned to be true to myself. I think more than is necessary, and I'm openhearted to a fault. For me, there are only two choices: I throw myself 100% into something, or I don't do it. That goes for my career aspirations, my personal relationships, and everything else. Call it what you will, but it's the most authentic way I know how to live.

The fact of the matter is, I know who I want to be. And even if I don't act like that person every minute of every day, even if I make a misstep here and there, it doesn't mean that I've failed. It just means that I'm not dead yet. I'm growing. I'm moving forward. And regardless of everything I'm feeling in this moment, that is something to be proud of.