Sometimes being at home is really hard. Like really hard.
I graduated from the University of Idaho on a high note. I received my degree. Costumed a show, danced in a show, and performed not one, but TWO senior recitals. I spent a lot of time with my best friends, and then I moved home. Post graduation adjustment is really a challenge.
I like being home, don't get me wrong. I love being with my family. But.
I was in limbo. And limbo really sucks.
I spent some time crafting, working out, writing, dancing, and doing a lot of netflix watching. And that was nice. I even slept in really late some days. I told my parents I was catching up on for years of lost sleep.
I was unemployed, stressed about bills, trying to help pay for my guest house remodel, and it just wasn't happening. The place I felt I was guaranteed a job at wasn't calling me; they kept telling me, "In a couple weeks, we'll have a job for you in a couple weeks." And nothing.
And more nothing.
Zilch. Nada. Zip.
Then one day, a beautiful Friday, I was helping a friend with her kids at the theme park. Out of the blue, we got talking about the daycare (where I had worked in high school) and I made a joking comment about whether or not they were hiring.
Turns out they were! Now I'm employed, playing with babies every day for waaay more than I made as a waitress. I love going to work, except for the shifts that start at 7 am. Those are a little tricky.
I think the point I am trying to make here is that maybe limbo isn't all bad. At the very least, it has an end. It gets better. And I know I forget that. I think, "OH MY GOD THIS IS NEVER GOING TO END" and I sit and I stress and I get anxious and I pray and I just hope that there's a light at the end.
And there always is. Whether the light is candle, a table lamp, or a chandelier, there's always a light at the end.
I know that most people, myself included, forget that. I try, after my summer of discovery in Moscow, to keep in mind that things happen. Shit happens. And that doesn't mean that we've been forgotten. It means that something is trying to block us from whatever our exciting purpose is. And I find that exciting.
Everything I have been through -Matt's drowning, the stalker, the abusive boyfriend, the crazy roommates, the abusive teacher, the eating disorder, and scores of other crazy things - really have just taught me a lot of lessons. They were hard and crappy beyond measure. But I learned a lot.
Limbo is when we can be taught the most lessons. If we can be quiet and just wait, it's when we can learn the most. It's the intermissions to the shows that are our lives. The chance to stretch, get up and pee, and read the informational booklets that are provided in the lobby.