Thoughts from the train

Ciao, everyone! For this post, I've decided to go a different route. I just got back from fall break in Paris and Barcelona--both of which were absolutely phenomenal--but instead of doing the usual "here's what I did this weekend" post, I wanted to mix things up a bit. So if you're looking for a detailed day-by-day itinerary of the past 6 days, this is not the post for you. But if you want to hear some of my random thoughts from the train ride today (which I've found is really good place to think), read on! 

The woman sitting next to me on the train cannot sit still. Caroline and I are en route to the Girona airport (the only airport remotely close to Barcelona where Ryanair flies). I find myself getting annoyed by my train companion (the woman next to me, not Caroline...just wanted to specify), but at the same time I can relate to her restlessness.

One of my biggest struggles over the past few years has been contentment. Right before beginning my freshman year at Wake, I anticipated jumping right in and finding my best friends on day 1. Looking back now, I realize how absurd that is, but at the time it made complete sense in my head. Every adult I talked to before heading off to college had ingrained in me that college is where you meet your lifelong friends, and I was determined to make sure that happened for me. Looking back on my freshman year--when I did in fact meet a lot of the people who are my best friends today--I joke about the time I called my mom 2 weeks into school, crying because I hadn't yet found the all-important Lifelong Friend Group. Now I see how ridiculous and impatient I was, but at the time I put so much pressure on myself to establish solid friendships right off the bat that I was only setting myself up for disappointment. My desperate search for contentment had the opposite effect, resulting in the aforementioned tearful phone call home.

Sophomore year, I returned to Wake, so excited to be back after summer. This was my second year of college--I was comfortable. I had friends. I knew the ropes. But for some reason, fall of sophomore year was my hardest semester yet. Even now, I can't exactly put my finger on what it was that made it such a difficult season for me, but I think that was the key component to my frustration: I couldn't explain what was wrong, something was just off. I found myself longing for home and feeling a deep sense of loneliness despite being surrounded by people--and some of my favorite people, at that. I struggled with feeling purposeless--yes, I was at college to learn and grow and become a real person and all that stuff, but to what end? I found myself constantly asking God why I didn't feel a strong sense of purpose in my work--I thought that I wanted to be an English major and that I was interested in pursuing a career in counseling, but I questioned if I truly wanted both of those things or if I had just convinced myself that that was going to be my path and the only reason I didn't do something else was because I was too afraid to try. At times I asked why my interests didn't correlate with more of a set career path, like medicine or law or business. Not that any of those things are easy in any way--I have met people on all of those tracks who also struggle with finding a sense of purpose--but I convinced myself that life would somehow be easier if I had more of a concrete sense of my future. The grass is always greener, right?

Sophomore spring was significantly better than sophomore fall--again, I'm really not sure why--but there was a pattern developing--during my freshman year I told myself, "Just wait til you're a sophomore. Things will be easier." Sophomore year, when it was hard, I said, "Just wait til you go abroad. Things will be easier." And here I am abroad, having the experience of a lifetime, and while this semester looks completely different than any period of my life thus far, I wouldn't necessarily describe it as "easier." Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love being abroad. It has been so incredible, and I am truly thankful for each experience I've had--I wouldn't trade any of it. But what I'm realizing is that I have a tendency to idealize things, to paint this fantastical picture in my head of "The Next Thing." When I'm at school, I miss home, and when I'm back in Birmingham, I miss Wake. I know it sounds like I'm never happy where I am, and that's certainly not true--so I hope it doesn't come across that way. These feelings--of missing the places where I'm not and the people I'm not with--come in waves. There have been times this semester when I'm having a great day, living the "abroad life dream," and all it takes is Facetiming with my mom for me to dissolve into a puddle of tears. Out of nowhere, the wave of homesickness knocks me off my feet. 

And then sometimes I catch myself thinking about returning to Wake next semester and how great it will be to be reunited with the place I have come to love so dearly and the people who make it so wonderful. I think about all the good things and ignore the inevitable challenges that will come with returning to school after having been gone for an entire semester. While I don't think it's bad at all to focus on the positive things--I like to think I'm generally a glass-half-full kind of girl--I don't think it's good to set unrealistic expectations. One of my favorite C.S. Lewis quotes is, "If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world." I love this quote because it serves as a reminder that my time on earth is fleeting--my eternal home is elsewhere. I am a firm believer in choosing joy--using a lack of contentment as an excuse for a lack of joy leads to a vicious cycle of unhappiness, which makes for a pretty miserable existence. However, I find an odd sense of comfort in knowing that my struggle for contentment is justified (or at least it makes me feel like I'm not totally crazy), because I wasn't made to feel completely at home on this earth.

I'm not sure exactly what compelled me to share these thoughts; it's just something that's been on my heart lately (and by "lately" I mean the past two years), and I'm finally getting around to connecting the dots that create this pattern which has been forming in my life since I started college. So where does that leave me now? How do I break away from the pattern, get out of this rut? My hope is that acknowledging the rut in the first place is a good starting point. And after that...I'm not sure. But what I am sure of is that regardless of my circumstances (and whether or not I'm content in the midst of those circumstances), I have a hope that makes every moment of frustration, loneliness, and doubt more than worth it.

So maybe I should show my new friend on the train some grace. I'm tempted to tap her on the shoulder and tell her that I get it--that frustrating, inescapable restlessness that takes hold of you and just won't let you be still. But then I realize that I have absolutely no idea how to say that in Spanish (which is probably a good thing, because that's kind of a bizarre thing to say to a total stranger). So instead, I've subjected all of you reading this to my ramblings in the hopes that they will make some sort of sense. Thanks for bearing with me--I'll leave you with one of my favorites from 2 Corinthians: 

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.

Ciao for now!