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To say it’s been a hard few months would be the understatement of the year. I have worn it on my face and couldn’t have denied that fact even if I tried. It would reduce my experience to say that swimming in the ocean, eating good food or hugging my best friend, Carly, would suddenly wipe away my problems.. But it sure did revive my soul in a way I didn’t think was possible. I’ve been stubborn in my own misery to think there wouldn’t be a single thing that would bring me joy or life back into my eyes. As I ran around Alexanderplatz frantically looking for Carly, I looked across the platform and there she was. When I finally got to her, we hugged and cried into each others shoulders. I finally felt like I could exhale. I took two weeks off from work (for the first time ever I may add), booked a trip to Greece and had a coffee or wine next to my best friend every day. It was a big step towards healing and coming back to myself.

I sent a picture of Carly and I to someone and they said “you’re smiling with your eyes.” I sent a video of us in Greece laughing and carrying on to someone else and they said “happiness looks good on you. it’s nice to see you smiling again.” There is something so restorative about being with a person who makes you feel like yourself in the full meaning of the phrase. Existing and spending time with a person who you can speak freely with or sit in silence and not feel uncomfortable is rare I’ve come to learn as an adult. A person with whom you can share thoughts or funny stories without fear of judgment. I’ve spent the last two weeks with the laptop slammed shut, sleeping in when I felt like it, having a wine or beer at 1pm just because and staying out until 5am dancing in a techno club with a person who makes me feel like me again.

I’ve never been to Greece. I also haven’t jumped into an open body of water all summer long. There’s a really special feeling that washes over you when you’re landing in a tropical place and you see the coast and the clear blue water for the first time. The feeling of the hot air that hits you as soon as you step off the plane that resembles opening an oven. The excitement that builds when you’re on your way to your hotel and you’re thinking about all the things you can do while you’re there. Carly’s mom explained that feeling to me and I wish I could bottle it up and keep it on the shelf for a rainy day. I haven’t felt that feeling in a long time. As we got into our van and serpentined through the island, I saw the beach, the deep orange sunset casting its light over the fields of olive trees and the rocky mountainous landscape that looked like the surface of the moon.

We spent our mornings eating breakfast together. During the day, we laid in the sun and went to the ocean. By night, we explored the little nearby towns and had dinner together. We cheers’d our drinks to the Greek sunset and made each other laugh. I slept better than I have in months and woke up to the powerful sun beaming through our shut curtains. We decided to rent a car to explore the island further. I haven’t driven a car in almost a year and I didn’t realize how liberating that would feel, either. I was so excited at the prospect of driving that I immediately jumped into the car at 10pm with nowhere to go, rolled down the windows and took off into the dark abyss. It felt like the day I got my drivers license (which alternatively was a cold day in January) as I was so eager to hit the pavement. I felt free and in control again which made me realize just how out of control I had become of my life, my emotions and direction.

When we returned to Berlin, we took it easy. We had our morning coffee together. We went for walks. We went on little pub crawls around the neighborhood. We sat outside with beers and went shopping for new clothes. We watched shows together on my couch and ordered take out. Sometimes I would look over to see Carly sleeping and it made me feel safe just to know she was there. I guess what I’m trying to say is, she brought light and a piece of home with her and I’ll forever be thankful for that.

As I sit here and write this, I feel different than I did three weeks ago. There’s a fine line between self-regulating and needing validation/love from others to feel okay. But this trip and visit made me feel whole again in a way that can only happen when you’re around a person you really love. When you get energy from a relationship or friendship vs. it draining you. I feel energized and so very lucky for my friendship with Carly.

I really didn’t think I’d feel this way again.

I wrote a very raw essay about connection back in March. I was feeling my move abroad very intensely while also missing my friends and a sense of familiarity/comfort in full force. I was awake at my kitchen table at 1am, unable to sleep, drinking tea and attempting to let my emotions come pouring out as a form of catharsis. In the moment it helped but it didn’t address a larger issue—a deep seeded one that I’ve been ignoring for quite some time… identifying my own needs. My whole life has been predicated on my connection to other people and being of service to them in the form of a friend, colleague, daughter, sister, girlfriend, you name it. But the connection that I lost sight of along the way was the one to myself. Deep down I knew this but I chose to ignore it as I saw greater value in pouring love and attention into my external connections and saw little value in putting the focus on the internal connection that desperately needed nurturing.

I’ve been trying really hard to reconnect to myself, attempting to redirect the focus to this area and the relationships in my life that give me energy vs. the ones that drain me. I’m assessing my strengths and weaknesses with a very critical eye and evaluating how to move forward. I haven’t felt like “myself” in months and it’s been disorienting. Now, I feel as if I’m starting to emerge and allow myself to connect with others again in a way that feels authentic. This past week, I’ve seen multiple people who I consider very lucky to know and call my friends. No matter where I’ve been in life physically or emotionally, my ability to surround myself with genuinely good, beautiful people has been something I’ve never taken for granted. Connecting to people, learning from them and supporting them is what keeps me going. Until I felt a severing of connections when I moved abroad, I didn’t know just how important this need was to me or how hollow I can when it’s no longer present.

Somewhere along the way, I took this role and service too far, though. I wanted to be overly present for every connection I made and I lost sight of what was important in various situations—often directing focus to connections that were a push/pull dynamic where I felt the need to “earn” it. I took my needs out of the equation in many scenarios as to best serve my connections. I left little time for myself or the connections that needed attention and this is a harsh assessment I’ve had to do in order to not make the same mistakes moving forward. During this season of my life, I’ve been faced with focusing on myself in a way I never have before. Not really, at least. I’ve had to identify what’s important to me, what I like, what I dislike. Where I need boundaries, or simply realizing I have none. I’ve tried very hard to find the good things as well. I’ve tried to identify what I like about myself and what I can bring to the table for friends and how I can be of service to them in a way that I don’t lose myself in the process.

A good friend of mine recently wrote to me. I’ve read her words many times and I can hear her sweet, high-pitched voice narrating every sentence. She took time out of her new role as a mother to sit down and write to me. She wanted to tell me I was on her mind and what our friendship meant to her. If only she knew what that letter meant to me and where I was, emotionally, on the day that letter found its way to me from across the world. This person knows and loves me for who I am and I know I can count on her no matter what. I hope someone in the world feels this way about the friendship and connection I provide to them.

I had a moment a few months ago where I looked at myself in the mirror and I didn’t recognize myself. I stared into my own eyes for an uncomfortable amount of time and what I saw in the reflection was a person I didn’t know. I understand it might sound cliche to go down this route but it was a very humbling experience to feel that I had gotten so far off course that my own reflection made me uncomfortable. I was convinced at any moment that the person staring back at me would do something that didn’t mimic my actions to confirm my suspicion that it wasn’t in fact me. The sunken face with dark circles and tears in her eyes was me. Who had I become? I was disconnected and floating aimlessly through the abyss instead of picking myself up and focusing on the things that mattered.

I visited a good friend of mine last weekend. We sat in the sun on a cobblestone street while people played music outside. We drank our cappuccinos and talked about life. It felt so good to sit across from a person who I love and deeply admire with whom I can talk about the complexities of life including what makes it beautiful, confusing or just downright dreadful. To be in the presence of a person who I care for and who cares for me brought light into my life. Following this, I met with two friends for wine a few days later. We told stories, talked about “home” and I laughed for hours. I felt like myself again. I felt like I didn’t need to hideaway and rebuild myself in order to be worthy of these connections. These friends just accepted me as I am and likewise.

To all of my friends near and far, I love you. I’m sorry if I haven’t been the best friend recently. I’m coming back, I promise.

i do not want to fight this anymore

Since we were little kids, my brother Ryan and I have had cats. Over the years we’ve had many cats and there have been a few that carried us through many chapters of life—ones that were truly our best friends and companions. I can remember the day we met each of our cats. I can also remember the day we said goodbye to them, too.

When I was 15, my brother Ryan adopted two small kittens named Dante and Virgil. Dante was grey and Virgil was orange. I remember the first time I met them at his apartment in Baltimore. They were tiny and hiding under the bed. I knelt down and said hello to their beaming eyes as they stared widely and unsure at a stranger. Ryan always had a way with animals and more specifically cats. He loved those kittens and was so excited to have these two brothers to keep him company as he embarked on the next chapter of his life.

As life would happen, Ryan lost possession of his cats a few years later. He was devastated. We talked on the phone nearly every day and he was beside himself. He couldn’t imagine his life without his cats and he knew he had to do everything in his power to get them back. And he did. He spent days, weeks and months contacting lawyers, flying back for court cases and doing everything he could to fight for them. He spent thousands of dollars and was grief stricken over the possibility that he’d never see them again.

He was faced with a decision that would be impossible to make which was he had to choose. He could only have one of his cats and even though he loved them both, Dante was Ryan’s cat. They were bonded in a way I’ve never seen an animal and person fuse before. To know Ryan is to know Dante.

For 15 years, I’ve watched my brother prioritize Dante above all else, especially himself. At times when Dante needed help, Ryan sacrificed his own well-being and comfort for his friend Dante. When I would look after Dante when Ryan was away, he would roam my halls in the night wailing and crying out for Ryan. When I held him, he would study my face and listen intently at the way I said his name. I could see in his eyes that he recognized the familiarity of Ryan as my sibling and felt comforted by that. Every time I held him, he would place his paw on my face. I always felt that the two were correlated.

I’ve never seen a person love their cat, rather their friend, the way Ryan loved Dante. Until the very end, Ryan fought for him. He raised money so he could have life-saving surgery and rode the train to sit by his side every day. Dante loved Ryan. He was his entire world and Dante was Ryan’s.

Rest in peace, Dante.

I really felt the love this year on my birthday.

31~