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.

When I was in college, I really got into running. I’ve always hated the act of running and found it uncomfortable or boring to some extent. As I got older, though, I found it to be both progress driven and also meditative—if you let it be.

At 19, I found myself running nearly every day after class. I would run in the evening on the greenway next to my apartment with my favorite playlist. I watched my distances increase and felt the runs getting easier week after week. My pace probably wasn’t very good but I was aware of the fact that I wasn’t so winded and my distances got longer on a steady, incremental basis. I ran in the spring and the peak of summer which was particularly miserable but I’d take it over winter running, even still. We’ll see if that changes at some point as I run more.

On December 31st at a small cafe in Berlin, a good friend and I made a pact to run a half marathon together in March. At the time I was optimistic about this goal and I began running (on the treadmill) consistently and watched my endurance increase at an accelerated rate. I started off strong and then February came along which involved a lot of traveling and plans that did not encourage running/training on a consistent basis. I was frustrated with myself but when I was honest about the situation: even if I had been training regularly during that month, I still wouldn’t have been prepared to run the half marathon in a way that felt good to me. And so, I didn’t run in that race.

On one of the said trips in February, I read What I Talk About When I Talk About Running which encouraged me to get back to it. I don’t know if I was scared that by running I would become a “runner” which is not what I have ever sought out to be. I didn’t want to attempt to be fast or set any sort of records for myself. I simply wanted to exercise in a way that required little equipment and allowed me to be outside and think. And voilà, that would be running. So I read Murakami’s approach to running which I found particularly interesting as he’s a novelist and has been recognized for this hobby despite his career. Apparently a novelist is not often a runner? Who knew.

Murakami started running at 33 years old as a way to stay healthy. He logged the amount of miles he ran and ensured this became a part of his every day routine. He talked about simply wanting to finish races in the beginning and taking on new challenges as he became a more seasoned, veteran runner. I don’t know why but the way he explained his approach to the hobby inspired me to pick up running again in a more habitual way vs. one where I’ll measure myself agains’t a clock or another person. With this in mind, I woke up early on Sunday morning, had a coffee, wrote in my journal and decided I’d go for a run. I know my neighborhood well and finding an appealing route was no issue. I set my watch and off I went.

I ran a 5k around my neighborhood and a nearby park which to me, felt like an accomplishment for not running in months. It wasn’t the prettiest run in terms of endurance but overall, I was happy that I was outside and exercising which was my goal, after all. It reminded me of the nights in college where I needed to move my body and listen to music without any human interaction and the peace that followed was hard to match with another activity. Anyway, I’m looking forward to more days outside as I run around the neighborhoods of Berlin and slowly, but surely, increase my distances and ability to feel comfortable in the silence.

I’ll work towards a half marathon but it will come when I’m ready, prepared and comfortable to be challenged. Until then!

 

mandy love theme 

moving abroad | october 2022 | tennessee

I had a dream last night that I was at a big event and had to put my coat, keys, and wallet into a locker. Similar to the gym, I had to remember which locker number contained my things and then I needed to recall the combination I set for the lock. In this particular dream, there were 1,000 lockers and I didn’t take note of which locker held my things and I definitely didn’t remember the combination I set.

My dream consisted of me running through these long corridors and opening every single locker (or trying) and thinking of dozens of combinations to retrieve my items. I take dreams, at times, seriously—or at the very least, I try to decipher the origin or address what’s going on in my subconscious. Some of my dreams are nonsensical and I don’t pay much attention to those, but other times, I try to listen and dig deeper to the underlying messages. When I took a psychology course in college, we did an entire lesson on dreams and the symbolism that can exist. Some parts seemed like a stretch and others did make sense, even if I needed a roadmap to see how psychologists arrived at that conclusion.

When I looked up my dream about losing things and searching for them, the general theme seemed to be: a desire for something that is missing in your life. It could be a physical object, a person, or a feeling. It may also represent a need for direction or purpose. Hm… all of the above?? Not really but maybe a few.

Purpose

I can say that I’m not searching for a direction or purpose. I’m fairly content with my life as it stands right now. I’m establishing a routine that makes sense to me and fulfills me in a way that I haven’t been in quite some time. I also don’t focus on life purposes too much (anymore) because if I did, I would land myself into an inception-style parallel dream state reality where I’m having an ongoing existential crisis for the rest of my life. My purpose as of this exact moment is to work hard, slow down, be good to my dog Russell, show up for my friends and the people I love, and above all, continue trying to be the best person I can be—even if I haven’t been close to that in six months. I listened to a podcast interview with an author and psychologist who is exploring the quarter-life crisis which as it turns out, nearly every person I know is experiencing in some way. She mentioned that there are two types of people when it comes to this crisis: purpose/meaning people, and stable people. Those who are in the purpose/meaning camp know who they are and what they’re here for but they’re searching for stability. The stable people are the inverse as they are constantly searching for their purpose or meaning in life while having stability as their core function. I thought that was an interesting take.

Person

This is a tough one and a recurring theme of the past year. I miss my best friend and I search for him every day in the dark corridors of my brain. Similar to my dream, I feel as if I’m looking for him but I don’t know which locker he’s in or how to retrieve him. I don’t want to leave the venue without him and he can’t be replaced as my keys, wallet or coat could. So, I stay in this corridor, frantically running up and down doing everything in my power to find him. What a sad metaphor. Either way, this persona could be a few people but my guess is that it’s one in particular.

~

I don’t feel as lost as I did months prior. I don’t feel that I’m falling in an elevator shaft without control of the speed or that I’m running aimlessly through a corridor without any direction. I feel immense relief in the monotony of working, going to the same exercise classes, walking the same loops, or eating the same variations of food. Every morning when I wake up, I feel less sad than the day before. I look over to Russell who is sound asleep next to me and as he pushes himself into my legs to stretch, I ask him if he’s ready to start the day. We get up, I make his breakfast, then myself a coffee. We walk around the neighborhood and see the same people as we did the day before.

I know my purpose to some extent and now I’m fiercely seeking to maintain stability.