life – Darkk Horse Travel

Staying Grounded When Chaos Hits

Published on May 23, 2018September 10, 2018 by EmileeLeave a comment

I definitely don’t live a standard life. And the thing about being a risk taker is that sometimes things fall short. And other times, everything falls short at the same time. Which is pretty much what happened last week. Let’s just say a lot of things crashed and burned. But that’s life, isn’t it? One minute everything is one way, and in an instant shit changes.

Since it seems like a lot of people in my life are experiencing chaos hitting the fan, I thought I would share some of my go-to techniques for staying grounded when life isn’t playing nice. Here they are, in no particular order:

1. Gardening

I’ve loved gardening since I was born. No joke. I think my love of gardening came from my Irish/English grandpa who always had a massive garden and would teach me how to take care of each plant and honor the earth it was planted in. Being around plants soothes me. At the moment I’ve created a bit of a garden with some vegetables, roses, herbs and the most beautiful hydrangea ever. When I’m feeling super stressed out I go and sit out on my porch and just take in the reminder that growth will still happen, no matter what life feels like at the moment.

2. Reading

I own more books than is probably healthy, and I try really hard to manage my addiction to buying them. This one I blame on my mom, since I grew up with an entire library to choose from. I love the wisdom and dependability of books. They’re still going to be there waiting for you to learn, or love, or let you leap into a fire pit to save an entire world. Who cares how your day way? There are adventures to be had. Right now I’m reading these books:
The First American
How We Got to Now
The Name of the Wind

3. Meditation/Prayer

If you’ve followed along on this blog for a while, you know that I’m a Christian and my faith is a really important way for me to bring balance to my life and worldview. When things get hectic and chaotic I take time to step back. I turn off my electronics and meditate to recenter. I think this is a really important part of being human, whether you’re connecting religion to it or not. Because when we find peace in ourselves, the outside world has a way of falling together, as well.

4. Art/Cooking

I’m an artist and I do art. A lot. Whether it’s knitting, crochet, painting, cross-stitch (my latest craze), sewing, or making a recipe from scratch, creating with my hands brings me back to my center and calms me. I’ve always been like this, and I think it’s the same for a lot of people in my family. We’re makers. It’s in our DNA. We couldn’t stop even if we wanted to.

5. Standing on my bed and lip syncing to Miley Cyrus

Ha. Ha. You thought these were all going to be adult and normal. Gotcha! I’m a huge Miley Cyrus fan (judge me if you must, you scoundrel) and I’ve found that her album Bangerz is just about the perfect lip syncing music to get that “F U” attitude off your heart. Be thou warned, that these are explicit lyrics. But, ya know, sometimes you need so yell a few swear words to get your mind back on track. The point is, have fun. You’ll be amazed how much of a difference it makes.

What do you do to re-center yourself? I’d love to hear about it!

Invincible Me

Published on January 28, 2016March 21, 2016 by EmileeLeave a comment

person-woman-art-creative-large

Memories are funny things. Childhood memories can be filled with imagined wonder, or overwhelming pain. And, looking back at my crazy bookworm artist braided hair younger self; I see so much more insight into who I am, and who I am becoming, as an adult.

Looking back, I see all of the laughter, the imagination, the beauty, the pain, the curiosity, the anger and confusion – and I sometimes think I was so much more intact when I was a child. Because, back then, I didn’t worry about being filtered. I laughed and danced because it was time to laugh and it was time to dance, not because I had been told by society to do, or not to do, one or the other.

Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about when I was 11 years old.

My grandma, who I had only met once, had died and I was laying on my bed, curled in a crescent shape. Alone. And wondering if I should cry. At the time, I suppose it would have been the right thing to do. But all I could do was sit there, curled up, wondering whether I was supposed to do it.

That was the beginning of a pretty unhealthy relationship with tears.

You see, I was raised in a very non-emotional family. We didn’t cry, hug, say ‘I love you’ or talk about emotions in pretty much any other way. We were strong. We were invincible. Or, at least, in my naivety, that’s what I thought.

Over the next decade I didn’t cry. I didn’t cry at sad movies, funerals, when pets died, or when sad things happened in the world. I was invincible. I was strong. Or that’s what I told myself.

I still can count the number of people who have seen me cry on one hand. It’s a pretty rare occasion, and like any natural phenomena it’s usually brief and then gone, like it never happened in the first place. Crying just wasn’t ever an acceptable means of communication in my life.

Then I moved to France.

Americans make fun of the French, a lot, for how emotional they are. And, to a certain extent, those jokes aren’t always wholly unfounded. In my one year in Paris, I saw more tantrums, and crying fits than I had in my entire existence. And I’m not talking about from the kids.

Maybe it was the culture that was surrounding me, or maybe it was the trauma of being alone in a country 5,000 miles away from your next closest friend. But, when I lived in France I cried – quite a lot. In fact, I wouldn’t even say ‘cry’ is a solid enough word. I wept. A lot.

And while it still wasn’t in front of people, and there still weren’t tantrums involved, I think I have to thank France for giving me back my tears.

You see, something I’ve realized, since being back in the US, is how much more emotional I am. When shit is sad, I cry (sorry, for the swearword, mom). When I’m upset, I cry. When I see something heartbreaking in the news, I care…and sometimes I cry.

And while I may not be single-handedly supporting the Kleenex industry (yet), that’s a really big deal for me. But what’s more substantial, in my opinion, is the realization that for so long, I believed a lie.

Crying and caring hasn’t made me weaker.

It has made me so much stronger. I’m able to invest so much more in the people and relationships around me. It has pushed me forward, and allowed me to focus on creating a solution, rather than trying to control the problem.

I hear a lot about people who don’t cry: they’re tough, they’re cool, they’re manly, they’re invincible. But the truth is that we are broken. And don’t get me wrong, that’s not necessarily a bad thing – brokenness builds beauty all the time.

But, speaking from the other side, I’ve learned so much more about my own ability to rise higher, dig deeper and pursue and dream more. There’s something empowering about the ability to cry. In a way, I like to think of it like a phoenix burning. It can hurt to feel pain, and to allow your body to process it. But, in the end, it creates something even more beautiful; something renewed.

39ce0e4e0f217810f6a5ff4fdfcc623f

Broken Hearts And New Beginnings

Published on December 20, 2015February 8, 2016 by Emilee2 Comments

When I was a kid I had this idea for my life. I thought I would grow up, go to college, graduate, meet this perfect person who would change my life, fall in love and check that off my list of successes – next step, world domination. Needless to say, life didn’t happen that way.

It got messy. Relationships got messy. And I got my heart broken.

I remember sitting in my room and wondering what I had done to have brought this upon myself!? I felt tainted. I felt like I should never be accepted or loved again. I remember my heart feeling like it had been put through a shredder. I remember feeling so much shame and so much despair.

But I shouldn’t have.

Because human heartbreak is something we all experience. Whether it’s from people, circumstances or the realization that dreams we once had aren’t turning out the way we had hoped. It’s a fact of life – and it’s one that I don’t think is talked about, enough.

Heartbreak is something you can write books about, warn people about, lecture about and it will still happen. And it will still hurt just as much.

But the story doesn’t have to stop there.

Heartbreak isn’t the end. It’s merely an evolution and transformation of who we are, to who we will are meant to become.

When I went through my first particularly bad break-up I remember calling my mom, snot-nosed and weeping, and her saying, “Emilee. This does not define you.”

I’m pretty sure those were the best words she could have said. In all of her Scandinavian directness (*cue Elsa singing “Conceal, don’t feel.”*) she hit on a valid, logical and very poignant point.

At the moment I wanted her to weep with me. I wanted her to pity me. But now I realize the wisdom of those words. My current situation didn’t define me. What did, was what I did with it. And THAT is what the conversations about heartbreak should be about.

Fast forward two years. Life is a lot better.

I took my heartache and I bought a plane ticket. I wrote about the journey. I found a community and met people who changed my perspective on life. I got some tattoos. I lived in a different country. I joined Twitter. I wrote about my travels. I rediscovered my love for writing and story telling – and you know what?

I did meet a “perfect” person who changed my life. And I did learn, slowly but surely, how to fall in love with them – the only thing was, the person I learned to love was me.

It might sound like the corny line at the end of a Disney Channel original movie, but when I look back, I’m not sure that I would have changed the way things happened (except I might not have stopped myself from slashing the tires of my ex). Life had a way of pushing me in the right direction, and I’m happier on this path than I ever was before.

Heartbreak taught me to love myself. It taught me to push forward even when I felt like I was being sucked backward into a vortex of despair. I didn’t know it at the time, but those experiences were paving a way for me to find my own purpose and meaning.

It’s been a while since I took that first backpacking trip. I had no idea what I was doing as I stepped on an airplane, headed to the UK. All I knew was that I was worn out emotionally, and I needed to get away. And now, just a month after my two-year anniversary of that trip, I’m headed back in the same direction.

It’s amazing how much can change in such a short period of time. This time the plane ticket wasn’t bought because of heartache; it was bought out of love. I’m not traveling alone I’m traveling with two of my closest friends, and I know quite a bit more about what the travel experience will be like, having now lived in, and travelled frequently around Europe.

Life has changed. It has kept moving forward. And the dreams that I have now are so much bigger and deeper and so much stronger than they ever were before. Heartbreak is not tarnish; it’s a badge of honor. It means you risked. You dared to love, dared to dream and dared to ask life for more.

So risk. Risk your heart, risk your dreams, risk your expectations and then rise. Regardless of the outcome of your daring ventures, make the outcome excel you to new heights. Because heartbreak is merely a transformation. And, like a phoenix, your circumstances only prove that you now have the opportunity to soar.

Blog Signature

5 Ways Paris Changed How I American

Published on October 20, 2015January 15, 2016 by Emilee3 Comments

It’s not grammatically correct – I know. Get over it.

Visiting any place will change the way you interact with the world, but living in a place changes you right down to the core. There are so many little differences I’ve noticed since I’ve been back from France – it’s crazy to think that it has already been more than four months since I’ve been back! What a crazy thought.

But, France is still with me in so many ways. No, I don’t have French speakers surrounding me, anymore, but I do have a lot of things that I’ve changed in my own day to day life, that weren’t even noticeable while I was living in France. Today I realized just how much my American has become French. It’s okay, though. I think these changes (for the most part) are making me a healthier happier person!
Here are a few examples:

I eat dinner for lunch: If there’s one thing that the French are known for, it would be their food. Beyond this, I would say they’re known for their love of food. It’s not uncommon for Parisian businesses to be closed down for multiple hours, as workers wine and dine their lunch breaks away. As a young professional navigating the professional (very American) world, I wouldn’t say I’m quite to this point, but I definitely do pack lunches differently. When I was in France it was the first time that I had ever eaten anything more substantial than a sandwich for lunch. But lunch in France? It was a huge, gourmet (and quickly became favorite) meal of mine. And I’ve noticed the remnants of this practice in my day to day life even now. I pack meals, not yogurt and burritos, for lunch – and I’m starting to realize how much more satisfying my day is after having a substantial meal to look forward to, and to enjoy the energy from.
I cross the street whenever I damn well please: Okay so this one I actually have to rework in my head every day, because I now live in a city where the police DO care if you jaywalk. In Paris I got so used to just walking across the street whenever I felt like it (as long as there wasn’t oncoming traffic, duh.) that I’m still trying to retrain myself to stick to the crosswalks and wait for lights to change. It isn’t easy.
I CANNOT enjoy regular bread: It’s actually really sad to me that I can no longer enjoy non artisan bread. But I just can’t. Unfortunately, the U.S. doesn’t exactly accommodate my French taste buds with the penny prices that you can get bread for in France. Here in the U.S. they’re more than happy to charge you your first born child in order for you to enjoy the light fluffy goodness that bread should be. And now I’m sad to say (sorry to my budget), I don’t have any intention of ever going back.
I can’t enjoy sweets/soda: WHY IS EVERYTHING SO SWEET IN THIS COUNTRY!? My salt levels were pretty off when I first got back, as well – but I definitely got over that one. Mmmmm salt. Sugar – not so much, I can barely sip off of a soda, it’s so high in sugar. Everything, in fact, seems to be dumped with piles and mounds of sugar and sweeteners. It’s a little more than I can take – but this is a pretty easy something to fix since I love fruit and vegetables more now, anyway.
Old isn’t old, anymore: Last weekend I was driving past a field when I saw an old barn. It brought up a really interesting conversation/thought process when I called it ‘old’, though, because I realized that it was probably built within the last hundred years. In comparison to the thousand (and older!) year old structures I was used to seeing in Europe, it’s interesting how my thought process has changed as far as measuring the age of things around me. The U.S. is such a baby nation!What about you all!? Have you ever lived/travelled somewhere that changed your perspective on how you live your own day to day life? Comment below!

12 Signs You Were Definitely Homeschooled – Written By An Actual Homeschooler

Published on October 1, 2015December 17, 2015 by Emilee5 Comments

In light of the recent Relevant Magazine online article “12 Signs You Were Definitely Homeschooled,” which did nothing to relay what it’s like (AT ALL) to be actually homeschooled (seriously, guys – did a homeschooler even write that!?), I decided to write a list about ways to actually tell that someone was homeschooled (since, apparently it’s important). Oh, and this one (RELEVANT) is written BY someone who was actually homeschooled. So here they are, 12 REAL signs that you were homeschooled.

You have some really crazy stories to tell: You had more experiences in your short little elementary life than a lot of people can say for their whole existence. Roadtrips, museums, concerts you name it – you’ve done it. You can connect with people from all kinds of walks of life because your experiences aren’t limited to the cookie cutter lifestyle the rest of the world was experiencing.

You’re really gifted: Maybe you’re really smart, maybe you’re really artistic, maybe you’re really good at science or math or a musical instrument – whatever it is, you’re GOOD at it. You know why? Because you were allowed time to hone your skills and invest in becoming your best.

You research a lot: Whether it’s reading up on things, experimenting with things or pushing life to the limit, you’ve really upped the notch when it comes to the way you view the world. You ask questions, you find answers – basically you’re your own Mythbusters show.

You take more risks and chances: You naturally think outside the box. In fact, what even IS the box? You don’t know – you never learned that in school. Whether it’s traveling more, starting adult clubs and groups, starting your own business or writing and publishing a book – you know how to risk big and get things done.
You are more tolerant of people: You learned to be friends with people because they were human beings, not because they fit into a certain socioeconomic, racial or religious clique groups. Homeschooling was kinda lonely sometimes, and you learned to adapt by becoming friends with anyone who looked like they might be cool. Because let’s be real, if someone shared your interest, they were your new best friend. Done.

You ask questions: There were no sniveling idiots to pound your questions into the ground growing up, and you’re not afraid to question why things are the way they are, now. Maybe they aren’t questions you scream from the mountaintops (although, maybe you do!) maybe they’re just questions that allow you to move push past what’s expected of you and ask one of the most powerful questions in the world: Why?

You’re super tech savvy: And let’s be real, your friends know it. You’re the one who people call on the phone when they’re having computer problems and you might even have a tech related job, now. The reality of technology was a power that appeared to you a lot earlier than everyone else because technology meant bringing you closer to people and things that you were passionate about! Oh, and we’ll just keep all the hacking on the DL.

You’re super close with your family: Or maybe you aren’t. Spending a lot of time with one’s family can have lasting effects on both sides of the spectrum. Maybe your family became your best friends, or maybe the exact opposite happened. Let’s face it. It’s okay (after 15 YEARS) to take some steps back and keep it casual. These people know a LOT about you, after having spent every day with you – they may just know too much.

You’re self-motivated: There were no late assignments to be excused, waved or curves to be graded on. You either passed or you failed. And it really was all about YOU. You know how to make things happen, and it’s not so hard to push yourself toward goals, since you’ve been running this race, as its solo champion, for years.

You crashed your friend’s proms and loved every minute: We all crashed our “normal” friends events. Whether it was prom, going to sports events or just hanging out in general. We weren’t stuck to barriers about who our dates were or who would be there. WE WERE THE PARTY. And it didn’t matter what we did – ‘cause it’s not like we were gonna ever see those people, again.

Your fashion game is off the charts: Because amidst that (actually not as abundant as outsiders thought) free time, you had time to check up on what people in the fashion capitals were wearing. You were able to experiment with the latest trends from Milan and Paris, and you loved every minute. You spent hours pouring over fashion magazines, vintage movies and style blogs and you knew just how to start a trend, no matter where you were.

You’re uniquely you: You are a homeschooler. That doesn’t mean you are a clone. Some of you wore denim skirts, some of you didn’t. Some of you lived at church, some of you worshiped in nature. Some of you had parents who made your clothes, others of you MADE YOUR OWN CLOTHES. You were allowed to form and become your very best self because there was no one to tell you that you couldn’t. Congratulations on being the very best version of Y-O-U. Take a bow.

Life of Pi

Published on August 29, 2015August 29, 2015 by EmileeLeave a comment

“Why do people move? What makes them uproot and leave everything they’ve known for a great unknown beyond the horizon? Why climb this Mount Everest of formalities that make you feel like a beggar? Why enter into this jungle of foreigness where everything is new, strange and difficult?

The answer is the same the world over: people move in the hope of a better life.”

It Takes A Village

Published on August 3, 2015 by EmileeLeave a comment

Wow, it has been a WHILE since I’ve caught everyone up on the crazy that is my current life! Throughout the past weeks I’ve been moving, working, applying for jobs, moving AGAIN and trying to keep my head from spinning so hard it falls off.

Luckily, I am #blessed (sorry, I couldn’t resist!) with the best community a girl could ask for. Sanity saved.

So, what HAVE I been up to? Well, I’ve moved into my permanent housing situation in a beautiful Seattle neighborhood that is close to nature, parks, Puget Sound and a short bus hop to downtown. Sometimes I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. I’m so happy to be back home, it seems surreal.

The whole moving escapade has been quite the adventure because I started off staying with a friend on her bedroom floor, my first week back (thanks Claire!), graduated to a temporary living situation with some rad Seattle chicks. And a month later, I was lucky enough to land (kind of bumpy, but I’m still in one piece!) in my current abode. I’m living with a couple of fantastical chicks, now, and I’m sloooowly pulling together my heavily Pintrest inspired living space.

I would just like to reiterate that none of these things would have been possible without the amazing community I’m a part of. I have the best friends a girl could wish for, I’ve had more support and love than I could have ever imagined, and my mother has been a darling bringing down/moving boxes. Oh! And this time I’m in the same country as these people so I can actually hug them and say “Thank you!” You all have made the miracle of this transition happen. Thank you thank you thank you!

What’s up with the rest of my life? Well my job has been keeping me on my toes, and is filled with fun every day, my housemates are awesome, I GET TO HANG OUT WITH MY FRIENDS, and I get to see my family whenever I want to. Sheesh. It’s all just too much. When they say “cup overflows, “ I think I finally understand what it means.

I am so incredibly happy to be back in my city. But I also recognize that my joy in being back is amplified because of the adventures I’ve been on abroad. While it might seem like regret for leaving Seattle might be a feeling that hits right about now, that’s not the case AT ALL! I’m just so happy to be where I am right now.

Will this be my forever stopping point? Who knows. But in these moments I am happy. I love being surrounded by people I love, and I love having the adventures that pop up and meet me every day.

Enough with the frilly stuff??

Okay. Fine.

Just know that moving back to one’s own country, after having adventures in another one, CAN be done successfully. It takes a lot of hard work (A LOT), and a lot of patience with yourself, but it can be done.

One of the biggest things I’ve been learning, lately, is just to let go of my trying to control my circumstances, and to really dig deep. I have so many things I could stress out about, but taking a step back and approaching them each individually has proved to be so much better than curling up in a ball and trying to hope the problems go away.

Not only does glorifying stress not help solve the situations at hand, but it prevents me from enjoying the beautiful little things around me in my day to day moments. Yes, I am so thankful to finally be back, but that doesn’t mean things have been easy every step of the way. AND THAT’S OKAY.

I’m fine admitting that I don’t know what’s going to be the next step, moving forward. I mean, I didn’t even know where I was going to live until weeks before I would have been homeless.
BUT.
Something always comes up. And I have faith that it always will; because in the end, my fate and my future are not in my own hands. While the hard work is mine to dedicate myself to, the direction I’m heading is from an always-faithful Father.

This life is crazy, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m back! I have no idea what the next step is in half of the areas of my life, but I know I’m on the right track, and FINALLY that’s enough.

Why Netflix And I Are Never Ever Getting Back Together

Published on June 28, 2015June 28, 2015 by Emilee9 Comments

Can I just say: I love being back in the U.S. Will I always live here? Probably not. But at the moment I am having a pretty splendiferous time of it. Coming back to Seattle was not an easy decision. There were a handful of people who thought I should stay in Paris, and others who thought I was crazy for choosing to move back from Europe at all.

But in the true middle finger to the world approach I adopted from my time in France, I could care less what their opinions are.

Because, when it comes down to it, this is my life. My decisions. And I’m the only one calling the shots on which direction I go. I would definitely encourage those who feel like Paris is the Mecca for happiness to move there themselves. (It was not, and never could possibly be, for me.)

ANYWAY…Being back in the good ‘ole US of A has been so much more of an adjustment than I ever thought it would be. It’s funny, but you don’t really even realize how many things you get used to when you’re living in another country. Like bananas.

French bananas DO NOT taste the same as the ones we get here (or fruit in general). And at first that really bothered me. But over the course of 10 months I guess I got used to it, and I wasn’t even aware of the fact…until I got back to the now watery tasting ones in Seattle.

Beyond the fruit revelations, I’ve also experienced so many levels of culture shock from being back. And as weird as it sounds, one of the hardest things I’ve encountered is keeping up with English/English speakers!

While obviously I haven’t forgotten how to speak English, I do have quite a bit of difficulty (still, after 3 weeks!) of finding the correct words for sentences, or speaking conversationally. There are a couple of reasons that I think are to blame for this. On the one hand, I obviously didn’t speak English in France, unless I was with one of my friends or the family I lived with. But on the other hand, I just didn’t really speak that much in general! Now looking back on the past year, I’m realizing just how incredibly silent I became. It feels so odd to be able to express myself without checking my vocabulary for the simplest form of a word and I keep having these moments when I think “Wow! I can read/respond without thinking to that!”

Is forgetting you’re fluent in a language standard after living in a country where it isn’t primarily spoken? Maybe it’s just me.

While I was living in France, I also didn’t have a phone for pretty much the entirety of my time there, so having the ability to call/text/use my smartphone outside of a Wifi zone is the oddest feeling. To be absolutely honest, I still kind of get freaked out when I get a text or phone call.

And despite the general joy of being back in my hometown, there are some things that will NOT be being reintroduced into my life, one of which will be Netflix/Hulu. Both of these sites were absolute addictions prior to my moving…and I guess that makes sense – I love movies, and I always have. BUT the mindlessness and the numbing effect that comes as a package deal is not okay.

In fact, that is one of the biggest things I’m observing and trying to keep from slipping into while in the U.S. Numb distractions.

I never noticed before how much over stimulation there is in the United States. Let’s all take a step back for a second and observe a few: There are more TV shows than we could ever hope to watch (but you’re expected to keep up with all of them), there are more activities than you’ll ever have time to do (how do you not run, do yoga, rock climb and go on a 10 mile hike EVERY DAY!?), more food options than you could possibly choose from, and more technological (sorry, mom) shit than you could ever possibly need. For instance, my iPhone 4s is like six generations behind, and I’ve only been gone for a year!?

Clarification: it still works fine. It still calls, texts, connects to Wifi and my data plan and takes decent photos, and yet…since I’ve been here all I’ve heard about is the latest smartphones and people calling generations that came out two months ago ‘ancient.’

The craziest part is that in spite of all of these 5 million things to keep us occupied, every person I’ve talked to since I’ve been here hates their job, and is constantly trying to escape through said distractions. And don’t even get me started on how messed up the whole, by age 22 most of us are in more debt than we’ll be able to pay off for 20 years, thing.

Okay, I’ll stop ranting. Like I said, there are so many amazing things I love about the United States, also. But one of the biggest things I’ve had to start doing since being here is simply saying no. NO NO NO NO NO. I don’t want to engage in this frothing at the mouth competition to impress people I don’t like in order to create a life where I’m constantly plugging in to something to forget I hate it. NO!

Because if there’s one thing I DID learn about living in Europe, it’s that my true friends love me when I have absolutely nothing to give, nothing to share, no way to repay and nothing to contribute. I am loved as I am. I don’t need to impress anyone, and I don’t need to be running around trying to keep up with whatever the next trend to hit the streets is.

Because when it comes down to it, these are distractions from what I really want to do with my life. These are things that kept me, for many years, from really pursuing things I was passionate about. They are pop up signs, advertisements and shiny gadgets that will not make me happy. And while each, in itself, is not necessarily harmful, the amassed collection is turning us into a nation of ravenous hoarders (of wealth, of technology, of perfectly filtered Instagram photos), blind to how blessed we already are.

‘Livin On A Prayer

Published on March 31, 2015 by EmileeLeave a comment

Before I left for France my aunt told me “Come back happy, or don’t come back at all.” To be honest, I wasn’t really sure what that meant. But whether or not she wanted it to stick with me, it has for the past 7 months of me living in France.

Thinking back over the past months, there are so many reasons I could have left. So many experiences that would have validated buying the next plane ticket to the U.S. and not looking back.
But to grasp at those opportunities would have been to do so out of fear.

And whether or not she meant this, I think I understand:

Come back stronger than when you left.

Come back wiser. Come back with stories to fill volumes in the family history books. Come back renewed. Come back knowing yourself better. Whether it’s in one week, or one year, come back because it’s time for you to come back, not because someone or something tells you to come back (or to stay there). Come back satisfied. Come back more fully you. Come back happy, or don’t come back at all.

It’s kind of incredible to think about the transformation that can happen to a person over a period of a year. I’m just approaching 8 months and I’m still in awe of how different I feel, compared with when I moved here.

The biggest change, I think, is that I feel like I know my own mind so much better, than I did before. Whereas I used to be constantly worried about the backlash of actually making a decision, I think I’ve reached the point where I know – but more importantly trust myself.

Although I’m a pretty stubborn person, truth be told I hate conflict more than anything. I want things to be relaxed, smoothed over and easy for everyone involved. But the reality is that if you’re always trying to make other people happy, you end up getting trampled underfoot.

There’s a quote I heard once (although I can’t remember who said it – shame on me) that said something along the lines of “If you’re not writing your own story, someone else will write it for you.”

And while this might seem kind of morbid, I think of it as a reminder that we know ourselves better than anyone else in the world. It’s having the strength to assert that knowledge, which is where life gets a little tricky.

This year I’ve noticed that, in the abundance of spare time I’ve been given, I’ve really reverted to a lot of things I had forgotten I loved. My top 3: Art, reading and travel. (And geeking, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.)

Art and reading are pretty self explanatory, but today I was thinking about the actual “why” of my traveling.
Like if I was sitting in a job interview, and they asked me why I love to travel, what would I answer?

I mean, there are easier ways to get an adrenaline rush. There are closer places to run to if I wanted to escape my life.

Why do I think it’s important to hop on 5, 10 or even 20-hour plane ride to see the world beyond my own city or country?

Well, I think it comes down to a pretty simple answer.

Because I can.

Now I don’t mean that to sound cocky, although some of you might read it that way. And I don’t mean it to sound condescending (duh – I’m not a bitc-…mom, cover your ears).

But when I step back and categorize the priorities in my life, I see travel hitting the top because, simply put: I have the opportunity to do it. And I know and acknowledge that isn’t an opportunity afforded to everyone.
Secondarily, although not unconnected, I travel because for a good portion of my life people looked at me as someone who not only wouldn’t but couldn’t.
When I was growing up a lot of people said some pretty dismal things about my future. After all, what could become of a mixed girl born into a non-traditional household? My gender, family status and race were all a “problem.” Or, at least that’s what my mom was told.

Luckily, I have a badass (sorry for the swearing, mom) mother. And I’ve had one of the most stubborn upbringings known to humankind.

So, when I say I travel because I can, I don’t mean because I am somehow superior to others in my ability to do so. If anything it’s the reverse.
I mean that when I travel, it isn’t really about me.

It’s about the lives of people back home who sacrificed so much so that I would have the opportunities to lead me to this place. They didn’t get to go backpacking, or Couchsurfing or jump on planes at the drop of a hat (and some of them never will), so when I do – it’s for them.

It’s a way of me honoring the sacrifices made, and the people who made them. Because I’m not naïve enough to think my own freedom to travel wasn’t paid for before I was old enough to understand the currency. I know that when I’m buying plane tickets, or booking trains, it’s because of decisions made out of loyalty and love.

Traveling is a way of me saying, “Thank you.”

So, whether I’m standing in India, or Ireland or Italy know that I’m bringing all you amazing souls with me along the way. I’m sending my love and a heartfelt thank you via postcards, silly souvenirs, phone calls, Snapchats, video messages, emails, letters photos or while collecting stories to send back. Because I freakin’ love you all!

Why do I think it’s important to travel? Because I don’t have a lot to offer in the form of tangibly making dreams realities. But I can be the feet that imprint a little piece of home, and all those dreams I carry with me, wherever I go.

Solitude & Surrender

Published on March 10, 2015 by EmileeLeave a comment

I was Facebook messaging a friend this past week when the topic of the two of us having millennial long conversations, when I get back to Seattle, came up. See, this particular friend is quite special in that she and I have (more than once) spent most of the night talking about nothing, and after a year – there will be a lot more than a little something to talk about upon my arrival back in Seattle.

But, as we were messaging, I had a thought that I really hadn’t considered before: When was the last time I had talked to someone?
You know, like not a “hello” or talking about work, or being afraid you’re keeping someone up due to the time difference, or being told that one of the kids might be sick so watch out for vomit when you pick him up from school – but actually TALKED to someone.

You know, like sit down and talk about how you’re actually doing, opening up and fully “talking.”

I realized it had been a while.

Don’t get me wrong, I have awesome friends in France (and duh, we talk), but the reality is that I’ve spent more time alone over the past 7 months than I ever have before. I know, I know, all of you extroverts are yelling at the top of your cyber lungs that I need to go out and party more, MEET PEOPLE! And all of you introverts are thinking, “Wow, I could use some of that. Alone time sounds blissful.”

But I don’t think it’s as easy (or fair) to chalk this occupational hazard/perk to strictly being a “bad” or a “good” thing. There are both benefits and detriments to having so much time with myself. For one thing, me and myself know each other quite well, now (please read that in as sane a context as possible).

The reason being that when you have a lot of time to yourself, you have to face your good and your bad, your greatest accomplishments and your biggest fears. In those times of silence you have to find balance with yourself because there is no one else to help you. And you have to make real actual decisions, rather than burying holes to “deal with them later.” In short, you have to get to know yourself.

And let me tell you, it’s not always comfortable.

But facing your fears, anxieties and inhibitions never is – and, of course, it’s something we all must (or, at least, should do at one point or another. So whilst I’ve away in France, I figure, now is as good a time as any to get some of these insecurities out of the way.

Exhibit A:

I remember writing a post a while back about how I “couldn’t draw” (the reason being that I never felt that I could be good enough to even try, since my older brother is the superior artist in the family).

Well I’m facing that demon, and I’ve been forcing myself to draw every day for the past (almost) month. And you know what? I’ve discovered something that I never never never never thought I would: I really like drawing.

I’ve also discovered that being committed to doing something every day doesn’t mean you won’t feel so nervous you’re shaking, when you start a project, or that you won’t feel like throwing up when you show people the finished product – convinced they’ll spot every flaw your own eye is magnifying x1000.

But I’ve always liked to think that an artist isn’t someone who is somehow superior in the arts to the rest of humanity, but just someone who has learned to push past those specific demons and create despite their taunting inner voices.

Because, when it comes down to it, I think some of the biggest battles we face in the journey to creating ourselves, are the seemingly invisible and silent ones trapped within our own minds. And over these past months, I’ve begun to learn what it means to challenge the things that I‘ve had holding me back.

In the silence I’ve found strength.

These past 7 months have proved to be a time of more battles than I ever thought I could face. Now, looking back to the person who stepped on the plane to France, I feel like I was a hundred years younger; again, a good and bad thing.

But, if I had to assign one word to the past months, it wouldn’t be a negative one (compared to a couple months ago, since my life literally felt like it was going up in flames). But, instead, one that I’ve felt like God has been whispering over my life the past few weeks, specifically: Surrender.

Now don’t get this wrong – surrendering, in this case, does not mean giving up on a mission. It doesn’t mean stepping away from the cause, or breaking down.

If anything, it means the exact opposite.

It means realizing that I have something to fight for that is bigger than myself; and that I have people around me to help me along the way. It’s completely out of my nature (and SO hard) to admit that I ever need help. Help has always equated to weakness in my past.

But it has been such a journey the past months to see how weakness is not what has been shown through the actions of others, but how incredibly strong I am because of the people who have held me up in my times of need. And beyond that, a heavenly Father who hasn’t left me at any point along the way.

Life has not turned out as I expected. Things have not gone the way that I wanted them to, or that I planned them to. But that’s okay. And realizing that has been a journey of its own. But I know there’s a greater purpose for the fire that refines us.

And even though it’s not always the easiest or the most convenient, sometimes the thing we need to hear the most, in the silence, is the whisper of our Creator to take courage, and to keep moving forward.