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Friday, January 18, 2013

Selfish Thoughts over the Atlantic Ocean


            Independence is a mixed blessing. Out in the world, with nothing but your backpack, your meager savings, and your wits, you are responsible for you and only you. You are responsible for your decisions, your actions, your successes and your failures. It’s equally liberating and terrifying. There is something so eye opening about being set loose, without family and friends and community who expect, require and hope for things from you. You set your own goals and decide your own successes. And when you succeed, oh what a feeling. To be able to stand up and say, “I did this. No one else, just me”, it brings on a sense of accomplishment that you can’t find at home when your parents are paying, your friends helping, or your school is setting it up. The independent triumph can be something as simple as finding the correct address, or buttering toast or remembering sunscreen, but it’s all yours. But independence doesn’t just apply to successes. You are set loose without family and friends and community. So when you get lost, lose your luggage, get sun burnt, get mugged, act stupid, insult someone, or get scammed, played, let down and pooped on, it’s on you. You have to be able to stand up and say, “I did this. No one else, just me”. And then you have to get up, get over the fact that no one is coming to save you, and decide what the hell you are going to do about it. Just you, no one else.

            This is my gap year. Just mine. I’m self-financing the whole thing. I planned each leg of my journey, decided how long and with whom and what and where. And so naturally I feel like I have a lot to prove. Every time I conquer a fear or challenge, I really feel like the achievement belongs to me and me alone. Likewise, when I fall, I’m falling on my own ass. But it’s ok. I feel like I know pretty well what my boundaries are, what I’m comfortable with. And so naturally I planned a lot of this trip to be way the heck outside of those boundaries. I’m not daring myself to fail; rather, I’m daring myself to succeed. Because if I do, hella points for Pia.

            I will be gone for 139 days. Five weeks in England and then three whopping months in India.  I unconsciously (though rather brilliantly) set up my gap year so that each piece was slightly more independent than the last. First third was Hawaii, which is domestic and English speaking and I went with my champion and loving supporter, Claire Fahrner. Second third is England, I’m going alone and staying with some people I’ve never met, but I’ve been before, have family there and everyone still speaks English. Final third is India. I’m going alone, I’ve never been before, I speak none of the languages, I know one person in the whole country and I’m working a real job for a real foundation. Working my way up to the deep unknown. And it’s scary as shit. But I’ve been given an opportunity to do something out of the ordinary, and I intend to give it my best shot. I’m terrified, but I so want to go and try because I am excited about this on a whole new level. It’s like high stakes poker after go fish. It’s the big thing. It’s the big, unknown, scary, wonderful, independent thing.

At the end of the day, what matters most to me is that I am spending this year doing things that I want to do and that are important to me. I’m not in this for recognition or credit and obviously not money (lmao at that one!). I’m doing this because I needed a break from school, I knew I had some things to learn, and I was offered some beautiful opportunities. I sat myself down and said “I know you’re scared shitless, but you’d be a fool not to try”.  So this is me trying. Trying to do something more than average, to learn more than what a classroom teaches, to push what I can handle, and of course, to learn how to fail, all by myself. 

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