Lately, the only thing that can get me out of bed is the phrase, "... and then we can go get coffee." Even if it is an internal monologue, prompting me to get up and get ready. Even if it is Justin telling me we need to take Tahoe out.
It's funny, because every time I sit down to write about life, to write about anything, it feels as if there are at least fifty different ideas and perspectives pulling me in different directions, shouting their opinions in my head, making me hesitate.
I guess the best way to describe that phenomenon is with one word: overwhelmed.
We're moving into the fifth week of grad school over here, and I'm still overwhelmed. My routines still aren't back to normal. I'm still not writing daily like I was over the summer. I'm still not reading the Bible like I had been doing almost daily since March. I'm still not acclimated to a good workout routine.
But, on the way to Starbucks to meet a friend to study on Thursday, I had the realization that I am finally settling into the rhythm of my new life, into the pace. And that, my friends, is saying something.
I probably go through at least eight different emotions within the course of a day, but I am making it.
The ever-present ache for home is still there, even though it feels like home is different every time I go back.
People and places and things are altogether different here, yet altogether the same.
I miss feeling secure, surrounded by friends, but that feeling is slowly seeping into our lives here.
My words feel unfamiliar in this space, but they are making their way back to me.
And the list of feelings goes on and on. Transition is a strange, surreal collection of moments strung together in an awkward fashion. But that is life, and this is my life. And I'll keep going and feeling and wondering and wishing and enjoying and loving.