Realtalk.

Hello faithful readers.

I know it's been a very long while since I posted. I haven't forgotten about you! This blog has been sitting in the back of my brain for the past couple weeks, a festering thing-I-have-to-do itch that I've been ignoring and putting off.

It would be easy to dismiss my absence with a "well I was just really busy," but that's not true. Yes, I've been working a heck of a lot, but not so much that I couldn't squeeze in a post. The truth is, I've been finding it hard to conjure up happy things to write about. So I've been waiting, procrastinating, I'll-do-it-later-ing, hoping to be struck with something upbeat and exciting to share.

However, this journey isn't just about the excitement and the coolness and the new adventures and the happy progress. A very real part of my life right now is the crushing sadness and heartbreak that I am struggling to deal with. If I don't address any of that, I'm not painting a realistic picture of what it's like to move across the country and leave your home and your loved ones behind. And I don't want this blog to be a vapid shallow story, Zookeeper Barbie Chases Her Dreams. I want this to be honest.

In college, if my group of friends had to have a venting session/brutal honest truth blurting/dose of tough love, we called it Real Talk. It eventually condensed to one word: "Can we have realtalk for just a sec?" "So, realtalk... [confession]." Realtalk is being able to speak candidly, honestly, gut yourself and share everything without the fear of what others might think. Declaring realtalk is to designate the following conversation as a safe space, a space to get all the feels out, a space for total and complete trust and honesty.

So right now, it's time for some realtalk:

I am terrified.

Of course the prospect of all the fun things ahead is exciting (meeting my roommates, starting classes, working with animals) but for the moment all I can think about is what I have to get through in the next three and a half weeks. This town is the only home I have never known. I was raised here. When I went away to my safe, small-town, midwestern liberal arts college, I still knew I had this place and this house to come home to. Leaving this time is different. The next three weeks may be the last three weeks I can call this house my Home. Starting August 7th I will have a new Home, and I'll have the rent checks to prove it. This time around, graduation will hopefully lead to a Grown Up Job in My Field and I will live wherever the work is. That won't necessarily be anywhere close to this oh-so-familiar town.

Then there's my family, my amazing, loving, wonderfully supportive family. When I pull out of the driveway it will begin the longest amount of time I have ever spent away from them. My mom will cry and squish me in a crushing hug and my dad will grin with pride and give me very practical advice and tell me to "be safe." My sister will smile awkwardly and fake-grudgingly allow me to give her one hug. My wonderful, ever-helpful brother is accompanying me on my road trip, and after using his Moose strength to help me move in will give me some last parting words at the airport that will be too serious and too cheesy and I will try not to roll my eyes while giving him one last hug, for once letting him squeeze as hard as he wants. I know how much he loves it when I squawk with discomfort and lack of air. 

But before all that, I have to somehow bring myself to say a word I hate to the very last person I want to say it to. I have to say goodbye to Boyfriend. We'll cry (he will try to hold it together for my benefit and I will try to hold it together for his. He will succeed, I will fail miserably in a flood of tears and snot.) He will tell me how incredibly proud of me he is. He will tell me how excited he is that my dreams are coming true. He will tell me how sorry he is that he can't come with, that he knows how tough this is going to be, that he wishes he could make me feel better. He'll tell me he loves me. I know all of this already, just like I know that no matter what I do to steel myself for this moment, there is just no way to prepare yourself for the excruciating, agonizing moment of walking away from someone you care so much about and plunging into a whole dark world of Unknown and What If. Of all the little moments coming up - the family goodbye, the first merge onto the first highway out of town, pulling into the driveway of my New House, showing up for the first day of orientation, walking through the doors of my first class - nothing terrifies me more than facing the inevitability of This Goodbye. 

My family will always be my family. My friends will always be my friends. But this program can put a strain on even the strongest of relationships. When I leave my house, it will be with the absolute certainty that I will be back. But when I leave that little apartment in the Big City, and the best relationship I have ever had, I have no idea what will happen. And that is scary.

The best part of following your dreams is obvious. The thrill, the excitement, the pride in being able to say YOU MADE IT. The extreme luck you feel to be able to count yourself among the very few people who are devoting their lives to something they feel an immeasurable passion for. Nobody ever talks about the worst part. The gut-wrenching goodbyes, the terrifying uncertainty, the constant question "Am I cut out for this?" The list of things you have to give up, other dreams you may never see fulfilled. Never knowing where life would have taken you if things had worked out just a little differently. 

This is the state of my brain the past few weeks - the harsh reality of the sacrifices it takes to go after something you so very desperately want. 

But I wouldn't be here if I didn't feel deep in my bones that it's all worth it. 

Nothing is permanent.

Endless love to you all,

Christy