Making decisions are difficult in and of
themselves, but when you throw in 3764.194 miles between you and your
comfort zone (yes that's exact thanks to Google), you realize just how harder
it is for a decision to be reached. As I approach the two month mark until I am
able to return to my comfort zone, even if for only a brief period of two
weeks, I wanted to share the observations I've noticed not only on the
decisions I've made but on the decisions made by others.
What exactly makes a decision hard? The first
thought screaming at me is consequences. Whatever decisions we make ultimately
shape our immediate and eventually long-term future. There are some people who
make decisions blindly without realizing the consequences until it is too late.
The cards have fallen, the final act has begun. If consequences were not taken
into consideration, there would be many more stupid, foolish decisions made
each day. It is also true that we cannot predict what consequences will result;
we can only guesstimate, as I like to say. I could only try to imagine how my
family and friends would reach out to me when I came here. I had no idea what
frenzy of emotions I would be feeling once I finally reached Tübingen. When we
make a choice, we have to live with the consequences.
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| And I thought choosing this was hard |
I am the girl who took four hours to pick out
wallpaper; 30 minutes for the pattern and 3 and a half hours on whether I
wanted it in gold or in silver (I picked gold). I knew I would have to live
with this wallpaper for the next decade or so, but it wasn't about the color;
it was about making the right decision. I was the only person who knew what the
right choice was, but I couldn't even come up with it. It felt like I was
taking a one-question test and the time was ticking away like an hourglass.
Sand trickling down from above and slowly collecting on the bottom.
I felt this when I went to Stuttgart at the beginning of the month. I wanted to
buy a dirndl (a traditional German dress, think Hansel and Gretel), but they
are hard to find at an affordable price. When I was at Oktoberfest in Munich I
tried some on but I never found one that I loved and I felt like I missed my
opportunity when I came back. So I found myself in Stuttgart in a gorgeous
dress, wanting to buy it and take it home with me, worried I wouldn't have
another opportunity yet worried that it was too expensive for my budget (I am
thoroughly enjoying the Fulbright experience but the budget needs to be
increased because money runs out quick when you have to pay 800€ in rent fees
alone and you only have 1000€ for the month). I was worried what people would
say about my purchase. Well, not everyone; ultimately, I was worried what
the person
would have to say: my mother. My mom had told me I could get a dirndl; she
wanted me to get one in fact. What neither of us had planned on was that I
would have to pay cash.
I've said I was strapped for cash, but I mean it
when I said I had 20€ on me and had to pay for this dress that was certainly
more than 20€. I told the woman to hold it for me and I would come back with
the cash in an hour. The problem was, I didn't have the money in my German bank
account. I had to make a decision: walk away from the prettiest dirndl I had
seen and possibly my last chance to buy one, or get the cash. Well, I emptied
my bank accounts in Germany and took some money from my account in the US (fees
included) and I bought that dirndl. I had 6€ left over but I looked stunning.
Then I spent two hours on the train, dreading the ominous Skype call
to my mother, hearing the "you don't have the money for that,"
feeling guilty. But none of that happened. She was thrilled and told me I made
the right decision. She surprised me but she was right. I stare at that dress
every night and wonder how bad I would feel if I let that opportunity slip away
from me. It was a consequence I wasn't going to face.
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| A sneak peek of my dirndl |
I thought when I came to Germany I would receive
a slew of support from my family and friends in the US. When I was making the
decision to come here, the amount of encouragement was overwhelming from my
roommates and friends to faculty and family. I had a wonderful support system
that helped me throughout the planning and preparation. When I came to Germany
I received many well wishes and "keep in touch" messages, and I felt
like I was going to continue to feel this as time went on. But I forgot that
everyone had lives to live. I am the person whose put the daily drudge of life
on hold for adventure, how can they understand how it feels to stare at the
computer waiting to receive an e-mail from them. Days turn into weeks and you
still hope you'll hear from them. And when you finally do hear from someone
once every few weeks it feels great, but you miss the daily contact, the
"thought of this and had to share with you" texts, the conversations
that don't have to take place when you should be sleeping. You miss normalcy.
I thought I would receive an e-mail a day from
someone, whether a family member, a friend, a former teacher. Not the same
person every day but at least something from someone to know that they were
thinking of me, they were proud of me, they knew it was hard but that it was
worth it. And maybe I expected too much; everyone I know is speeding through
life a hundred miles an hour. They may not know how much I could use them right
now. When I was home, it wasn’t like I talked to these people on a regular
basis; there just wasn’t enough time between school’s challenges and life’s unexpectancies
that we sometimes forget there are others outside our little bubble. And we
never exclude those outsiders on purpose; perhaps we just haven’t taken the
time to notice that’s where we’ve placed them. You can’t expect people to go
from occasional conversations to weekly e-mails overnight.
I hear from my mother religiously twice a day,
and I wouldn't want to trade her for all those other e-mails
or Skype conversations. My mother is my best friend, she's honest and
she stays true to her word. She doesn't make false promises and she's not
a hypocrite. I understand that people are busy and I truly treasure the
moments I do hear from a friend or professor or family member. I replay those
conversations in my mind like rereading a favorite story; if they were letters
I could hold they would be well worn from their usage. But when you reach out
to someone to only receive bitter silence week after week, that feels like the
door has been slammed in your face. There are words that hang in limbo, words
that you write to be heard, and you never know if they are truly understood or
received. Sometimes not making a decision, not choosing to act, is the ultimate
decision you can make. The curtain closes. The last note lingers in the air
like the mist after a cold, rainy night. The beginning of the end.
This is the purpose of my lengthy message to you
all, the goal I hope I have achieved: to remind you that it's never too late to
make a better decision. I don't want to change others because their decisions
have let me know where I stand and of what importance I carry in their lives;
they should realize it and change it themselves, it’s a decision they have to
make. And not everyone will think that they should change; they like things the
way they are. That's their decision; they will have to live with those
consequences and maybe one day they will turn around and realize who and what
they missed out on. And to those of you who do reach out to me, I am grateful
to have you in my life, you are as precious to me as the gems beneath the
earth. I want you to continue to reach out, I want to talk and laugh with you
and to share your triumphs and your sorrows. This is not meant to condemn; this
is my way of saying, "Here I am! I’ve been waiting for you for so long,
but I rather you come late than never come at all. It's okay, I’ve been waiting
but now when we do connect it will still be as magical as the first time we met."
And if we've never met and you are stumbling onto this blog wondering why a
girl whose never been away from everything safe in her life for more than two
weeks would travel 3764.194 miles away from home for a year to find
herself, I ask you to remember, if anything, this one, simple lyric from a
country girl who became a superstar, "It's never too late to be brand
new."
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| Taylor Swift <3 |
