I have passed the 2 year re-entry mark of my return from Spain to America. During this time, I have scrambled to find answers, to dig deep, to not be part of the crowd, to keep my faith, to keep my sanity. I have quit jobs, I have failed, I have dusted myself off time and time again….and I’m not sure where it all has led me to. I may have an income now, but I have lost so much peace in pursuit of a paycheck, in pursuit of something I once perceived as steady…because the only thing that is steady these days is my lack of health. I have seen multiple doctors, medical and natural, and although I have recovered a bit, I am still waiting…still wondering. Has my 2 year search caused me this chaos? Have I wavered for too long in uncertainty, stress and fear of the unknown that I have driven my health to hell? Or is it some mystery that I am meant to unveil? I sometimes wonder if I just up and left if my pain would disappear, but then I remember the international flights I’ve taken over the past 2 years, where I came back worse for wear. What’s a girl to do?
I look back on my years in Spain and think, wow, I had it SO easy then and yet I often found myself walking around under a cloud. I know I am a melancholic person, but if only I could have appreciated it more at the time. So much of me wishes I could go back and relive those days, relive being healthy and less guarded towards the world. I miss the life I created, the life that created itself around me. Maybe that’s why part of me wants to go back…to remember that brave soul that flew across the world…to remember that girl who didn’t let fear get in the way of a dream. I used to get angry with people who made excuses for not following their heart, and now I am a woman, contradicting my own self. These days, I am not the poet, I am the period. And I have to figure out how to find myself again, how to find that soul again, how to be brave again, how to pop open the bag of dreams and eat the whole damn bag.