One Year Later...

My family and my friends have always been my everything. This is why I always struggled with my dream to one day pick up and go somewhere new, maybe only for a few years, or maybe forever. I spent the better part of the last fifteen years of my life wondering what it would be like to leave. Would I be scared? Where would I go? What if I got there and instantly wanted to come back? . Could I survive without everyone I knew and loved? . That was the question that kept me up at night, who would I be if I wasn’t surrounded by those who knew me best, and would I even like that person? . As always, I believe that if something scares you, you should definitely do it. So when the timing seemed right I found myself boarding a one way flight to Helena, Montana. It was, as told to me by my two friends, a small town filled with friendly faces and breathtaking views. I had never been there before but something was calling me there in search of a more peaceful and quieter life. See, all of those friends and family members I mentioned, always seemed to keep my schedule pretty full, and I had wondered what I would like to do, on a quiet Saturday when there was nothing previously penciled into my calendar. . As I sat on that flight I had similar thoughts as to the ones I had been having for months. I pictured what my life would be like; I pictured a job I loved, an apartment that felt like home, and new memories with friends that felt like family. I imagined going to the farmers market on the weekends with my friends and their kids, and yoga classes with girlfriends after work. I pictured making new groups of friends and having people over for dinner at least once a week. I mentally planned holiday dinners and cocktail parties, BBQ’s in my backyard and of course nights out wandering downtown after dinner at one of Helena’s restaurants. I dreamt of trips to national parks and drives where you just HAVE to pull over because the view is too beautiful to pass, and I imagined going on beautiful mountain hikes and swimming in hot springs. I pictured my dream life, and at the same time, a tiny part of me worried, “What if it’s not everything I dreamed it would be?” . One year later and if I am being completely honest, my life here isn’t exactly what I had pictured. I work two jobs that I love, spending the majority of my week with the cutest baby, and the rest of the week at a store downtown that I would shop at even if I wasn’t being paid to be there seven hours a day. I have gone on a handful of adventures, including a trip to Yellowstone that took my breath away, and an atv experience that might have (totally did) made me cry because I was so happy to finally find myself on one, weaving through a mountain landscape. I’ve gone kayaking down the Missouri River and I have an apartment that I couldn’t possibly love more than I do, one filled with items that bring me joy and happiness as I look around and think, “This is mine.” To give you an idea, it’s impossible to stand in any spot of my apartment and not see a picture of someone I love or a book I am either eager to read, or wishing you would read so we could talk about it. I remember when my brother came to visit, after I had officially finished decorating, and said “It just feels like you, it’s such a warm place to be,” and I remember thinking that was what I had hoped it would feel like to everyone that came through the front door. . The problem is, no one ever comes through the front door besides me. See, I expected to have a house full of people on the weekends for movie marathons and Game of Thrones viewing parties. I expected dinner parties in my backyard and brunches full of mimosas with girlfriends, and in one year I can honestly say that the only time anything resembling those expectations happened, was because someone from home was visiting. In one year, I have made exactly two new friends, two friends that I ADORE, and am eternally grateful they have welcomed me into their lives, but still only two friends compared to the dozens I had back home. Yes, I believe that the quality of friendship is always better than the quantity, but when you’re used to the quality equaling the quantity, you become a little spoiled. I have been used to having groups of friends that were always up for a dinner out, seeing a movie, going on a spontaneous adventure, or simply coming over for snacks and wine. It didn’t matter when it was or what was happening, there was always someone around to show up when you needed them, and while at the time that could feel claustrophobic, it is now something I find myself completely grateful for experiencing. . You don’t realize how much you miss your friends and family until you have no one asking what your plans are for the weekend, and then immediately inserting themselves into it, by either inviting you out or inviting themselves over, because when given the opportunity they rather spend time with you than not. . If I am being completely honest, I have spent most of my time in Helena alone. I wake up, go to work, then head to yoga, alone; I come home and make dinner, alone; then I spend my weekends, alone. Are there times when my friends tell me to pop over during the day or come over for dinner, of course. Are there times when my girlfriends say, “Let’s grab a drink after work on Friday!” Absolutely. However at the end of the day I spend most of my time either in my apartment, or walking around, alone. . I know how downright sad that all sounds, and trust me, after a few glasses of wine on a Saturday night sitting on my couch in my pj’s, when my phone has only rung that day from people 3,000 miles away, I full on throw myself a pity party. . However, let’s look at it this way. Yes, I spend most of my time alone, BUT my relationships with my friends and family back home have never been better. I chose to leave, but in leaving I realized what I already had and therefore have treasured it more ever since. Sure I go to the movies alone, but I never have to share my popcorn or M&M’s, and when I’m out to dinner by myself, I NEVER have to share the breadbasket. If I’m out walking downtown, I can take two hours browsing the bookstore because I don’t have to be considerate of where someone else might need to be, and when I walk the farmer’s market alone, no one turns to me and says, “Are you really going to eat seven pounds of tomatoes?” because they looked so beautiful I simply couldn’t pass up on any of them. Sure I come home most Friday nights and don’t see anyone until I go to work on Monday morning, but that means I can paint till 3am, read my book in my underwear, have a dance party at 7am while drinking my coffee, and even watch all three High School Musicals back-to-back, sing-a-long edition with no one to complain. . Being alone has given me plenty of opportunities to truly be with myself; I’ve sat at my kitchen table with coffee in hand while watching the snow fall for so long that I’ve lost track of time. I’ve spent time looking in the mirror wondering what people in Helena see when they watch me walk down the street that makes them say, “Oh honey, you’re not from here are you.” I’ve learned exactly what songs will instantly make me dance the moment they come through my headphones as I’m walking home from the grocery store, and trust me, if you’ve never tried to dance with bags of groceries in your hands, that song has to be GOOD to make you want to move that badly. I’ve cooked the most delicious meals without having to share them, and have had long conversations with my cat without having to worry about anyone hearing and thinking I’m crazy. . I have spent more time with myself than I ever thought I would over this past year, and this is what I can say, this adventure has been everything and nothing like what I thought it would be, and in the end when people ask what it is that I loved the most about this experience I will tell them, me, and how somehow in the middle of the most beautiful mountains I fell even more in love with myself.