At That Place Again

I’m at that place again. Where I love the semblance of stability in my life but am still desperate for adventures abroad. Several of my friends are currently living abroad, in China, Peru, Spain, the UK, Romania. Hearing about their adventures makes me so jealous that I can barely see straight. I’m desperate for culture, language, adventure. I’ve never loved living in Atlanta, but at the moment the thought of spending another year here makes me feel smothered.

And then, I look around at my wonderful boyfriend and the adorable dog and the great house I live in and I think about how selfish and awful and ungrateful these thoughts make me feel. In my heart I know that this time here, in a city I do not love filled with people I do not desire to know, is meant to make me feel uncomfortable. It is meant to make me step out of my comfort zone. Moving to Spain, or China, or the UK would feel more comfortable to me than staying in my own country. Staying here is a test of my ability to make something out of nothing, to be a better version of myself.

I hope that someday, I’ll be able to leave and come back to find that I have missed this place.