Tag Archives: college

The Lesson I Learned from a Long Drive and a Trip to the Beach.


This semester has been rough. That’s the nicest way I’ll put that. No one factor made it rough, but then again, when things are rough, it is rarely for just one reason. To sum it up, I took some difficult classes, held executive positions in both student government and a social club, was in a Makin’ Music cast, and served as a seamstress for said Makin’ Music cast. I had all sorts of crazy things going on in my family life, I was working part time, and I was struggling with the depression end of bipolar. By the end of the semester I was burned out, wound tighter than a compressed spring, and stuck in a cycle of anxiety that I coped with by sleeping, watching Netflix, and obsessively reblogging things on Tumblr.


I was a mess.


Then, finals were over. I finished packing up my car, and on Friday, May 16th, I hit the road. I was headed to the Carolinas to spend the summer with my grandmother again, and even though I know that is going to have a whole lot of stress that goes with it, as I got further from school, I started feeling better. It was me, my music, and the road. By the time I hit Atlanta, I was belting to music and just felt joyous. I was asking myself questions, and thinking “Oh, I should research that this summer,” or “Hmm, that’s an interesting thought, I’ll have to see what So-and-so thinks of it” and all kinds of things.


That drive allowed me to clear my head, and drop some of the baggage off on the side of the road. I’ve been thinking about baggage a lot recently. I helped with a Ladies’ Day in Hohenwald, TN in April, and we did a modified rendition of the Skit Guy’s video “Baggage.” I played the main character, the one who had all the baggage. It hit close to home, because I carry a LOT of baggage. I like to think I carry less than I used to, and I probably do, but I still have a lot of it, and I don’t know when I’m going to get rid of it all.


I left some of it on the road though.


I realized how therapeutic long drives are.


They aren’t that way for some people, and that’s okay. Driving isn’t the only thing I find therapeutic. I went to the ocean on Tuesday night, and I frolicked in the waves for a while like a 5 year old. I didn’t go out very far, (mostly because I’m afraid of being bitten by a shark, even though that isn’t very likely to happen) but I waded far enough to wave jump and swim around a little bit and get thoroughly soaked by the tide washing in. I felt free, like I did when I drove from school to my grandmother’s. I felt alive, and whole. I sang “Step By Step” and I talked to God, and showed Him the joy that I had again.


There isn’t a whole lot to be done about the past. It’s over and done with. Learn from past mistakes. Stepping out from your comfort zone and asking for help when you need it, saying no, and maintaining boundaries are all lessons I had pounded into me this semester. Those three things were more important than all the lessons I learned in my classes. And stepping away from that experience and doing some self-care has got me back to relatively normal.


Find the things that are therapeutic for you, and do those things from time to time. Do something to get yourself out of the rut. Work in the yard, read a book, do something spontaneous, take a drive. Do something that will relax you, something that is fulfilling. Sometimes you have to push through the bad times first, but once that time passes, do something you enjoy. God got you through the rough patch, do something to show Him your joy. Create something. Serve someone. Encourage others. Spend time doing something productive.

Whatever you find therapeutic.


That’s the lesson I learned from a long drive and a trip to the beach.



Gelato induced deep thoughts

I’m sitting on my bed, listing to indie-esque music, eating straccitella gelato (what is straccitella anyway?) and dreaming of when I’m going to be in Europe in a few months. I’m so excited and yet so scared at the same time. I’ll be separated from everything I’m intimately acquainted to by thousands of miles and millions of gallons of water and it’s going to be full of things I’ve only seen in pictures and only dreamt of seeing.

The rational part of me says that I’ll be fine, thousands have done it before me, hundreds through the program I’m going through, and I’ll be with people I know fairly well. (Not-so) Deep down, I’m terrified. Not that I’ll be kidnapped and sold into sex slavery or killed or something like that, but more like “Can I actually do this? Can I really go and experience these things and have fun? Can I afford to do this?” And all the “what ifs” come and start clawing at me. (What if I get stranded? What if I run out of money? What if I fall in love? What if my faith is weakened by this? What if… What if… What if?!) And I still want to go and have this grand adventure and really get to claim to have wanderlust and I can’t wait to board that plane and get out over the Atlantic, but at the same time, I want to back out, and just stay state-side where I’m comfortable.

And I have until 4:00 PM tomorrow to pull out.

But I’m not going to pull out.


Because this may just be the most exciting and exhilarating and growth-inducing thing I ever do.

And I don’t want to miss that.


And to think a pint of Haagen Dazs induced this…