And So I Went, Part 1...

From the outside I think people have always considered me a "stable" person. I've heard others often use words like, reliable, sensible and confident to describe me. I feel I relate better to the turbulent waves of the ocean during a raging storm.

It's not that I think I'm untrustworthy or a delinquent or something. I've just felt restless for as long as I can remember. I spent so much of my youth and younger twenties trying to bury my big emotions and project a perfect façade that everyone would love. I tried to forget the buzz humming softly in the depths of my body. When I think back on those years, I can feel a tingling sensation start to spread from my core and travel down to my fingertips. I didn't understand why my anxiety was growing every year or why I felt so trapped in the hometown I had never left. I yearned for something more. Something away. Far away. To where? I had no clue. But I knew I had to go.

And so I went. The summer between my sophomore and junior year of college, I traveled to Ireland for two months. I volunteered on organic farms with a program that is designed to connect world travelers with farmers around the globe who need help working on their property. It was a pivotal trip for me because I went alone. I had to go alone. I wanted to prove to others and myself that I could do this. That I could do anything I set my mind to. It was a beautiful trip, but it wasn't enough. The waves still crashed in the pit of my stomach.

So, the month after I graduated college I moved to Portland, Oregon. This is still hilarious to me as Portland is just my hometown on a bigger scale. But, it didn't matter. I was out. I was in my own tiny studio apartment in the downtown of a major city. I was entirely broke, completely alone and still filled to the brim with anticipation and excitement. It was during this time that I fell in love with my best friend. Three months in to our long distance relationship, he asked if I wanted to move out to Houston, Texas with him. "Absolutely." I didn't even have to think about my answer.

I didn't really care about Houston or even Texas for that matter. But my partner's job and the lifestyle that it came with is what enticed me. He was a 'Tankie'. Part of a group who traveled together from job to job building enormous oil tanks around the country. It was mostly men. Blue collar, gritty, hardened men. They worked 10-12 hour days, 6 days a week in some of the most hazardous working conditions. They worked hard and played harder. I had never seen people live in this way before. I wanted to see. I had to know. And so I went.

My daydreams of traveling around the country, seeing places and people I'd never seen were cut short however, when my partner decided he had already had enough of this kind of life five months of me having moved out to Texas. I was devastated. It was an incredibly hard job and the three years he had worked there had taken a toll on him. I would have never considered asking him to stay just so I could indulge in my fantasies longer...but I couldn't help feel like I was grieving the loss of my own dream. Then, the little buzz of anxiety started to creep back in as the waves grew ever more inside me. "Where would we go? What would we do? Will we just return back home?" were my thoughts as we prepared to leave Texas.

At some point my partner decided he wanted to do an extended travel somewhere in the world before looking for a new job. Three to six months was his vision. He was thoroughly burnt out from the "Tankie Life" and needed to find himself again. He decided he wanted to go to Japan because his dad had worked there for a short time in his youth and had always been curious to see the country for himself. "Absolutely." Again, I didn't even have to think about my answer.

I had almost no knowledge or understanding of Japan back in 2018. I happened to have a Japanese friend who I had met in Ireland and a friend from high school who is of Japanese decent, but that was it. I had very little understanding of the food, culture and language. But, I was intrigued. "How do people live there? What would life look like? How would I feel?" were the questions I asked as we planned our trip abroad. I wanted to see. I had to know. And so I went.

Something magical happened when we came to Japan for the first time back in October of 2018. We both felt it, almost immediately. For me, it's when the turbulence inside me finally subsided. But, why here? Nothing that special had even happened yet, so what changed? Why was it that I could finally breathe?

During our three month journey through Japan, this feeling of peace only continued to grow. I fell in love with the culture, with the people, with trains and buses, with bikes and walking, with konbini's and vending machines. I loved that the waves inside me seemed to lap lazily against my shores. They called out to me to sit down in the soft sand and feel the breeze against my face.

But even as my partner and I desperately tried to find ways that we could stay in Japan, the skies on my beach darkened and the storm grew mighty once more. "Our families won't like this. Can I really be this far away from mine? I love them but I don't love that place. Would they still love us? Can we stay here? Is it even possible? What is the right answer?" were the questions I frantically searched for answers for as our time came to a close in Japan.

And so I went. Back home, to a place I no longer loved. The soft humming in my body returned and by the time we touch down on US soil, it was an all out gale.

To be continued...