Tag: moving

how to make moving less formidable.


The door closed behind my boyfriend. Then, suddenly, it was that moment. My stomach dropped into my shoes, my heart started racing, my head started spinning. I collapsed onto the couch and started sobbing uncontrollably. It was the moment I had been dreading, the moment when a single thought crossed my mind and sent me over the edge: What if we’ve made a terrible mistake?

I’m horrible with transitions, I always have been. The beginning of every semester of college was a nightmare for me. I don’t know why I thought moving across the country would be any easier. This moment was inevitable.

After college David and I lived in our little college town and worked jobs that were just okay in a place that was losing its glamour for us. We had really bad wanderlust. So we made a plan. In the spring we’d quit our jobs, get rid of all of our stuff, and drive west until we found a town we fell in love with. We did all of those things. After two and a half months on the road we found ourselves in a sublet in Durango, CO.

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times of transition.

It’s been an inexcusably long time since I last posted. I’ll blame most of it on the fact that south eastern Utah is essentially an internet void, but the rest is my own fault entirely. In my last post we were at Bryce Canyon. Following that stop we hit Capital Reef, Grand Staircase-Escalante, Arches, Moab, Canyonlands, and the Needles District. Each of those adventures deserves a post of it’s own, I intend to do my best.


Favorite spot :) More where this came from, I’m working on it!


At Canyonlands David and I made the decision to head back to Durango. Our wanderlust was fading and the prospect of camping in still-snow-packed Rocky Mountains was less than enticing. So we decided to skip the Colorado leg of the trip.

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transitions | on community vs. wanderlust.

I’m terrible at transitions. Horrible. The days leading up to one I’m a frantic mess, trying to tie up every loose end, say my goodbyes, and prepare for whatever is coming up. Then for weeks after I’m always an emotional mess and I always forget why.

There’s a reason for this that’s taken me years to figure out – transitions, in my life, are related to two very separate values I hold: community and wanderlust.

Community: Growing up in rural Maine, it’s hard not to have and hold this value as deep in your heart as any value can be. Growing up I always knew I wanted to live in small town. I love knowing people everywhere I go, I want the bartender or barista to already know what I want, I like having friends of all ages – from toddlers to the elderly, I need my family. The second I land anywhere my roots are already establishing. I travel deep, not far. I don’t like to sight see, I like to investigate cultures. My favorite part of traveling to Tanzania was delving into the small community around me: which people filled what roles, what people ate, what they did for fun, who their families were, the social quirks – and then finding my place.

Wanderlust: Again, growing up in small-town Maine, it’s hard not to dream of the world beyond Boston. Traveling has impassioned me since I was a child. A hunger to understand other cultures led me to raise my own money to send myself to El Salvador at 15. This life changing experience led me to attend the United Nations Conference on Climate Change in Durban, South Africa 3 years later, and then to study wildlife management in Tanzania the year after that.



“You can have roots and wings, Mel.”
– Jake, Sweet Home Alabama
(only the best movie ever created…)

As I prepare for our road trip departure on April 1st I feel the impending, and familiar, value-collision-stress. My roots are so deep in Carlisle that it feels like I’m going to college all over again – only this time there aren’t winter breaks. With an undefined plan that leads west I have to face the fact that I have no idea when I’m going to see the people and places here again.

Yesterday, I went to my favorite cafe for the last time. I got lunch with my favorite professor for the last time. I had my last waitressing shift at Andalusia. I said goodbye to the best regulars I’ve ever had as a waitress. Today, I said goodbye to the kids I babysit for the last time. In the coming weeks I’ll have my last day at work, say goodbye to some of my greatest friends, say goodbye to Dickinson, to my favorite bar, to the trails I frequently run, etc. etc. etc.

And it’s not just Carlisle. Leaving the east coast means moving further from home. This past weekend I saw my best high school friends in New York City. We had an amazing time together in the big city, and I know for certain I’ll see them again, but it could be years before the four of us are all together at the same time. In two weeks I’ll spend time with my parents before, again, I have to say goodbye for the foreseeable future.

I’m de-rooting again, and it hurts. But at the same time – I’m so ready. I hate repetition. Adventure is always on my mind. This road trip is everything I want and need right now. Wanderlust has me tight in it’s grip. After seeing so many other countries through my education I’m ready to see America up close and personal – deep, not far.

But even though I’m bad at transitioning, I also love the raw emotion it brings up. I’m forced to face how much I love the community around me, and how much it loves me. I’m reminded of how much work and love I’ve put into my life here. Then, I get to look at my future and be proud of my decisions not to settle, to live fully, and embrace being young. I get to look forward to putting roots down somewhere else.

Communities in my life so far:

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