Goodbyes are the worst: The week before the trip.

I know I haven’t written in a very very long time. This blog has been a constant part of my life for years, so for me to ignore it for over a month and a half feels downright awful.

Before I left for Europe, I had the most bizarre/wonderful/awful week. That week I quit my job, a necessary task for me to preserve my mental and physical health. I spent time with people I hadn’t before, who ended up being downright kickass souls that I doubt I’ll see again (isn’t that how it goes though?). I had to awkwardly hold back tears at the worst goodbye lunch at my job, but I also got to be with friends who supported me. I slept little, ate less, and cried and laughed more than I had in some time.

I still don’t know if I can put into words how weird that week was. It was not the sort of send off I wanted before my trip- that sort of chaos and stress and elation tend to throw me off, and as the plane took off from Denver International Airport a few days later, I still felt askew, like my clothes were on inside out or I’d forgotten something crucial, even though everything was (relatively) fine.

Being a human is hard. Feelings are the worst. Goodbyes are weird. I could be more eloquent but I won’t because I don’t need to elaborate- everybody who reads this knows what I’m talking about, as I assume you all have souls and hearts and that sort of thing. As I hugged and bade my friends, both new and old, goodbye on a cold, chilly,¬†claustrophobic Montana evening, I wanted to press “pause” on my brain.


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