Yesterday, I was struck with the dumb luck of finding my journal from 2011. I'm not much of a journaling gal (besides this little piece of heaven that you have the pleasure of reading), and the journal only contained three pages of my thoughts from a span of almost eight months (yeah, that's right: all I had to write about in EIGHT MONTHS was a whole whopping three pages - and they're tiny, journal-sized pages, at that). Those three pages, those eight months, contained some of the catalytic thoughts that catapulted me to the place where I find myself today: a PhD program in the Department of Communication Studies at the University of Iowa.
What a coincidence that I found this time capsule of my thoughts the day before classes started at Iowa. The very first entry contained sentiments about my struggle to figure out what my "next steps" would be - where my life would take me. I wrote:
...I can't figure out the "next step" because I haven't hammered out every single minute detail of the decision. And when I haven't figured it ALL out and it's not perfect, I just don't do it at all. Failure is a foe I like to keep at great distance; I avoid him. Though, by avoiding failure, I also avoid ultimate success. - I stop myself before I start. And it ends now...
I wonder how many steps I've taken since that entry? Do you think I could even count them all? Here I am, starting another great and wondrous chapter of my life NOW - facing it all with relative fearlessness (compared to the crippling fear I felt at the prospect of making a change just a few years ago). Since taking that next step, I have experienced a world of people, places, and things that I never could have had before. The trajectory of my life has changed dramatically, and I am so enamored by this adventure!
This leg of the adventure takes place in Iowa City, Iowa - probably one of the friendliest places on earth. A place where the gas station attendants shake your hand and introduce themselves, asking you to come back again soon. A place where the produce man at the grocery store tells you stories about his mother because your glasses remind him of her. A place where neighbors wave hello, despite not knowing who you are. A place where kids' artwork hangs on garage doors and parents stand by lemonade stands with their entrepreneurial-spirited children. Oh Iowa...
Just a few days before I moved to Iowa, my little brother shared some words of wisdom that are even more poignant now, after finding my journal. He, too, reminded me of some of my own words to provide me with a little perspective about the step I was about to take. He said that he knew I was probably very sad to say goodbye to my friends and my life in Winston-Salem, but he wanted me to look back at my first few blogs from when I moved there: I was alone, I was uncertain, and it didn't feel like home. He encouraged me to think about how much had changed in those two years and how hard it was to say goodbye to a place that had become home. If THAT could happen in two years, he said, just think of what the possibilities are in Iowa. Everything is going to be fine.
So far, he's been pretty right. I'm coming off of the first day of classes here; one in which I was a student AND a teacher. My life here is off to a promising, joyful (and very sweaty) start. Every day is a gift that I gave myself three years ago, when I made the decision to look fear and failure in the face and to challenge what I thought was possible, reasonable, and practical for myself. I feel incredibly lucky, incredibly empowered, and, hopefully, incredibly motivated to keep this old thing updated more frequently. I need to prepare more ammunition for future me to look back on in amazement.
Peace, love, and lemonade stands--
EMILY :)
