It’s funny that I wrote a post about not getting lost in nostalgia but sometimes I can’t help it. I’d say this isn’t a case where it’s unproductive though. It’s coming from a nice place where I open a door, revisit happy times and do so with fondness rather than sadness or a deep desire to be back at that time. I’m trying to appreciate nice memories for what they are: memories.

The other day I was on an easy run after work and I was just trotting along, looking around with the sun at it’s highest. It was a particularly hot afternoon and everyone was out doing some sort of physical activity—the weather somewhat demanded it. I’ve been trying to listen to audiobooks vs. music when I run or at times nothing at all but on this run, I decided to listen to uplifting/nice music since I was at a jogging pace with no destination or distance in mind. On the classic rock, nice weather playlist on shuffle Pink Floyd’s “Wish you were here” came on. I decided it wasn’t the time for this song but it did direct me to put on the same title but by Incubus. I heard recently that certain songs that made an impression when you were a teenager can literally imprint on your brain and connect you to a certain time and transport you back there when you listen to them as an adult. This song is one of them for me.

When I was eight years old, I was going through one of the hardest times of my life and I can say that at 31 years old. I had an abnormal amount of stress in my life for someone under 10 years old but life at home was shitty and really unpleasant 95% of the time. My parents were in the throes of a nasty divorce which I was positioned squarely in the middle. My mom and dad separated for the final time and I had just started a new school, my first time in a public school and making friends while dealing with heightened levels of anxiety was really difficult. I missed school often. I wore sweatpants almost every day. I got sick a lot and it was noticeable to adults that something was not right at home. One day, I befriended a tiny blonde girl who was outgoing and funny. I don’t remember our first conversation or exactly how we connected as kids, but I do regard her as my first real friend and one that would remain a constant in my life despite distance or paths we took. We grew up together and I am forever appreciative of her being inclusive and kind to a kid who was craving connection and love.

So as I put on “Wish you were here” by Incubus, I thought of this person. I thought of the summer in 2007 when we were together at music festival watching this song live together. We were 15 years old and my mom allowed us to go to a two-day festival ALONE in Baltimore with the light supervision of my oldest brother, Jeb. We essentially slept at his house but spent most of the waking hours at this music festival watching our favorite bands in 90 degree weather surrounded by drunk people twice our age. It ruled. When we saw Incubus, it was probably 5pm, the sun was high in the sky soon to set. We were fatigued from standing in crowds/mosh pits all day but I remember closing my eyes and appreciating the moment of being with my oldest/closest friend, watching one of my favorite bands at that time and how lucky I was. When I listen to that song today, I could transport myself back to that moment in a heartbeat. It’s one of the best memories I have in the archive. At 15, I finally felt like for a moment I could be a little carefree and enjoy life with my friends.

Today, I talk with this friend often with a nine hour time difference and thousands of miles between us. We facetime and catch up as if we’d seen each other every day for the past 10 years. I haven’t seen her in person for at least five years if I had to guess. It makes me feel safe to see her or hear her voice. To be connected with someone who’s known me for the majority of my life and loves me the same. And to bring this to a close, here is a photo from that day.

“The moment you leave the teacup, that raging storm will be gone, and a gentle breeze will greet you in its place”

I’ve been working on a creative project but it isn’t fully fleshed out yet. In the meantime, I wanted to take the central idea and write a short piece about that. The other day, I was biking across town and when I say across town, I mean literally from one side to the other and as I turned the corner, I could see the Berlin TV tower in the distance. It was a nice day and I was in a good headspace to think and reflect.

I could probably write a book about all the ways my life has changed since I moved abroad. Some parts would be rather mundane but others would be fundamental, core shifting principles. I say it often but for the sake of the next few paragraphs, I’ll reiterate how much I’ve changed over the course of a year and a half. From my style, to my habits, activities, preferences, routine, etc. I feel like a completely different person in the best possible way.

I was walking with someone on a Sunday when I told him all the ways I had changed and how another version of myself would see this one and be surprised but moreover, impressed. I said “what a foreign concept” when describing my new lifestyle and the idea stuck. My life has become what I would have previously considered a foreign concept and every day I find myself integrating deeper into a different way of living. This is, after all, what I’ve always wanted.

So, as I was riding a bike towards the TV tower, I did a little audit of my weekend and thought, “I’d never have this kind of experience back home,” or at least I wasn’t living a life similar to the one I am now. I’ve been trying to run more often so after work on Friday evening, I went for a run in the park. Following that, I spent the evening at the park with new friends eating Thai food. On Saturday, I biked across town to meet a friend for a clothing swap with girls from all over the world. I was gifted plants that were propagated so I took care of them, too. (I got really cool clothes, for the record!) Afterwards, I biked home, walked around my neighborhood with Russ and my brother, Ryan then made dinner. On Sunday, I woke up early for a morning run with a friend. I ran to the Brandenburg Gate, through the Tierpark and back home. I made breakfast and had a coffee with my neighbor from upstairs. Then, I took Russ to the park, had a Radler and came home. It was, in my opinion, the perfect weekend.

Towards the end of my time in the US, I was working remotely and somewhat of a recluse when it came to making new friends. I had surrendered to the fact that I wasn’t going to stay much longer and couldn’t find a reason to make new friends if I planned to leave. While a practical thought, it didn’t help my day to day life or mental health by any means. As I realize now at 31 years old, I need connection in many forms in order to feel complete. I need physical activity outside of walking Russ in order to feel good or that I’m taking care of myself properly. I need to foster a community and make new friends while also spending quality, genuine time alone with my thoughts and ideas. Slowly but surely, I’m getting there.

The point of what I’m trying to say here is that previously, I wouldn’t have had several social engagements to attend or at least I wouldn’t have committed to them or followed through. I wouldn’t have biked as a means of transportation in most of the cities I lived in, either. I wouldn’t walk to the grocery store, attempt to speak in another language while ordering my coffee or wear the clothes that I do. I wouldn’t (or couldn’t) walk down the street with a beer as a nice weather activity. I wouldn’t have such an active lifestyle or feel safe to run/walk around at night. I wouldn’t make friends the way I do or take risks because my life, at that time, didn’t encourage it. So now, I look at every day as a new way of living and one that I certainly don’t want to take for granted.

What was once a foreign concept is becoming my reality. My job now is not to allow complacency and keep reminding myself that change (big or small) is a part of life and can lead to the actual things you wanted. There just might be some bumps or detours along the way, I guess.

For most of my life, I’ve written in a journal of some sort whether it be physical or online. I’ve always jotted down my thoughts and most importantly, I’ve always noted the date of the entry. I like to keep an archive of my life through written words and photos. I revisit them from time to time and it’s nice to see how things have transformed since then.

I found an entry from April 2022 when I visited Austria and Germany. I wrote about how nice it was to travel again (internationally) after the pandemic. I talked about how peaceful it was and how I knew I’d like to move here one day. If only I knew that within six months of writing that, I’d be preparing to pack up my belongings and move to Germany.

And you see, that’s the funny thing about journals. You go back and read them and it’s like reading a book when you already know what happens in the next chapter. Some of them are hard to read, too. I looked at my journal from the past year with caution. I skimmed certain parts that I didn’t want to relive and focused on parts where I knew things were turning a corner. But moreover, reading my entries from this time last year was horrific. If only I knew what was coming but I didn’t.

And yesterday, I sat down to write in my journal but instead of writing something normal about my day, I wrote a letter to my future self. I wrote to myself in the future and gave an update of life and where I’m at through that lens. Most importantly, I stressed how much progress I’d made in one year, noting how beautiful my life had become despite my hopelessness at times. Finally, I reassured my future self that everything is in fact okay now.

I hope I keep memorializing my life in this way—for better or for worse.

to zone out & chill

I had a hard night followed by a busy day at work. Inspired by my post below, I took off running.