Where To Go From Here

In many ways and in many different times this has been said. When life goes “not as planned” and then you wonder “Well, what do I do now?” I’m finding that at 26, I have done and not done a lot of things out of fear of failure. I have played it safe and taken the path of least resistance to avoid failure, backlash, or heaven forbid, making someone angry or disappointing them. But in my early 20’s I was nothing but driven. I had dreams and plans and to look at some of them now, I’m envious of who I used to be. When I “got into the world” I got a bad taste in my mouth for discomfort. I didn’t ever want to fall on hard times and I didn’t ever want to put faith in my own ability to make a successful life. I just wanted to be comfortable, safe, and secure. Well I’ve been that for about 4 years now and I’m miserable. Where is my life? Somewhere along the lines I forgot about living and just worried about money. My thinking converted from adventure to the almighty dollar. I feel like its a fairly common occurrence, but that doesn’t mean that I need to accept that as is and continue following that same path.

After coming back from Nicaragua, there has been a sense of “What more can I do?” I am so grateful for that opportunity.I renewed my sense of self-empowerment and I have a new found drive to make my life and the lives of people around me better. I am starting with me first. We shall see where I can go from here, but I believe in good things and I believe that good things are going to happen. Not amount of money, or people, or careers, or opportunity can provide me with happiness if my internal view sucks. I have felt like a butterfly tacked to a cork board for awhile now and when I take the time to reflect I realize that the life that I am currently living is made for someone else. Anything that I’m ever going to do or be starts with the internal question of “Am I living in my full potential?” and up until now, I haven’t been, but that train stops here. I’m excited and scared and both are valid.

Always,

Hannah

Poetry Reading

In my tiny town, you don’t have to look far to find the differences in people. It’s also not difficult to see the similarities, but I have been conditioned to see what makes someone unique first. As I sat at the Market Place surrounded by a mixture of races, ages, students, and town folks. I could tell by the facial expressions which ones wanted to be there and which ones were getting extra credit. I also noticed the lesbian sitting beside me and how we both had on stereotypical garb and tiny black journals. It’s what I like to call “Tools in your Lesbian starter pack”

The poet covered all the bases from his childhood to Syrian refugees. He covered racial issues and he said something that I’m glad of. He said I am going to try to read this poem and explain my point of view coming from a place of white privilege. That’s a hard thing to admit, but for me it felt like it gave me permission to talk openly about race without the feeling of “how would she know” I may not know, but I do sympathize and I see what is happening in the world and I don’t agree and I may come from a ankle deep pool of diversity, but Appalachians are categorized in terms of status. I see it all the time and I live that life daily. I thank him for being vulnerable and reminding me that it’s okay. I had forgotten what it meant to be transparent and open about things that bring me true joy and things that make me angry. I don’t know where along the lines I made the subconscious choice to be a 1950’s housewife with no regard for my own feelings. I also want to thank the little baby who sat in front of me that made me laugh at her giggles. This is a continuing my journey of firsts.

Here’s to the rest of the firsts throughout my lifetime.

 

Always,

Hannah