Thankful.

Today, I got up way too early this morning, walked a 5k with my friend Kelly, came home and sat on the couch for awhile, and now we've just finished eating dinner.

Another Thanksgiving, come and gone.

I'm 26, and I'm trying to constantly remind myself that with each passing year, my parents get older, I get older, and eventually the humdrum traditions I too easily take for granted won't exist anymore.

I'm also attempting to spend some time today reflecting on everything I'm thankful for.

It sounds so cliche, I know. Everyone says that on Thanksgiving Day. Even using the word "reflecting" seems shallow and overdone.

But it really is true. It's easy for me to get caught up in feelings of negativity and anxiety. I so often find myself wallowing in self-pity and comparing my life to others around me.

Take this story for example.

The other day, I was walking into a restaurant with my dad. I had not really cared what I looked like that day; my hair was in two braids, I was wearing a stupid looking sweatshirt and basically could pass as a homeless preteen. It was not a good look for me, I'll admit.

As we were getting ready to walk in, we ran into a girl I grew up with. We had played softball, basketball, and tennis together, as well as cheerleading for years together. Basically, our childhoods intersected quite often. She wasn't necessarily a friend, but someone who knew me and would recognize me.

Turns out she's our new State Farm insurance agent, and my dad called out to her to say hello. Inside I'm thinking, "Oh my GOSH, of course we would run into her on a day like today." She looked very business professional, put together, successful.

And then there's me.

My dad says, "You remember Alexis?" She was very kind and asked how I was doing and where I was living now. I just laughed and said, "Yeah...I'm living with my parents for the time being. Looking for a job." That was the end of it and we walked in the restaurant.

I sat down and turned to my dad and said, "I knew this would happen. I look like I've done nothing with my life, and she's over there with a successful, prominent career. I feel like such a failure."

He looked at me and said, "Yeah, she has a career. In insurance. But you don't want to be in insurance. And I don't want that for you."

He went on to say, "A career in the arts, especially theatre, takes time to get your foot in the door. I was over 30 before I got my first real job that I really wanted. You cannot sit here and compare yourself to people in Appomattox who have no concept of what you want to do with your life."

And he's right, of course. My whole life, my parents have told me, "Do what you love. Do what makes you happy. Even if it means you make less money. That's what we did and we have no regrets."

I'm trying to remember that on days when I feel restless and that my life has no direction.

But here's the point of the story: that conversation made me so incredibly thankful. Not everyone has parents who support and understand their passion in life. But mine understand that I love theatre and want me to follow my dream, not just make money in a boring 9 to 5 job.

And it made me start to think about everything I have to be thankful for.

I'm thankful for this time at home, where I can clear my head, straighten out my priorities and reset where I'm headed in life.

I'm thankful for the life lessons of growing older and figuring out who your real friends are.

I'm thankful for a church that welcomes me home with open arms.

I'm thankful for friendships that are able to adapt to change and distance, especially when you didn't think it would happen.

I'm thankful for the new love I've acquired for being alone. I think it's so important to be comfortable by yourself.

I'm thankful for so much. I won't bore you by writing all of it down here.

But as cliche as it sounds...I really am truly thankful on this Thanksgiving Day.

And I hope you, my readers, have just as much to be thankful for.

Turning the Page.

So I'm back in Appomattox.

Louisiana is over 800 miles away, and I'm not sure I can adequately describe what I'm feeling at the moment.

The day before I left, I was sitting in Howard Auditorium, having a conversation with Anne. Actually, we were both just sitting there crying because we hate goodbyes. I had literally spent all freaking day doing nothing but saying goodbye to people.

Side Note: There's nothing more awkward and uncomfortable than trying to tell people what they mean to you before you walk out of their life. You don't want to be overly emotional and dramatic, but there's the fear that you won't say what you really want to and then later on, it'll be too late and the moment won't be right. It's even worse when you are walking through a building, crossing names off a list you made of about 20 people you want to have a final conversation with.

(...yeah, I actually made a list.)

 It's exhausting.

Anyway, that day I had just come from a particularly difficult goodbye, and I was still trying to process how I felt about it. As Anne and I sat there, attempting to put into words what our friendship meant, I said,

"Anne, I know that getting in my car and driving away from Ruston is going to be incredibly difficult for me...but I also know that when I get to Virginia, I'm going to feel this huge weight lifted off of me. And I'm so ready to feel that." 

She looked at me, still crying, and said,

"I'm so ready for you to feel that too." 

Over the rest of the day, I had at least 3 other people tell me the exact same thing. They all said,

"Lex, I can't wait to see you get some distance from here. It's time for you to leave." 

I don't mean that to sound the way it sounds. Because I love Tech, I love Ruston and I loved my time there. But the past 2 months were truly difficult for me. Despite the amazing opportunity I had to grow as a music director and as a person, I struggled almost daily.

I dealt with feeling like I no longer belonged at Tech.
I battled an almost constant heartache from relationships drastically changing.
I faced the anxiety of not knowing what was next, and basically just not having any idea who I was anymore.

I remember one day I was sitting in the Promotions office and someone made the comment that I hadn't been taking pictures as much lately. My friend Justin replied,

"Lex isn't herself right now." 

And to be honest...I wasn't.

It felt like I was walking around desperately trying to regain the Lex I used to be; happy, dramatic, energetic, laughing constantly, and making the most of every moment.
But I just couldn't seem to get it together.
Instead, I felt sad, depressed and constantly having to pretend to be fine.
I knew that I wouldn't really be able to heal from everything I was dealing with until I was gone, until I could actually move forward.
And so I felt stuck. I was in a constant cycle of pain and hurt, yet I didn't want to let go of the people I was surrounded by. It was an incredibly tough place to be.

Anyway, on Thursday morning I drove away. And you know, the trip was definitely hard.
I cried at different points; I knew I was driving further and further away from people I loved so much, people I'm not sure I will see again, and people that have parts of my heart I'll never get back.
You feel like you're losing a piece of yourself when you say goodbye to those that have forever changed who you are and how you view the world.
You feel like you'll never quite be whole because they hold so much of you in their hands.
I reflected on the way I said goodbye to them and whether or not I said everything I wanted to.
(I hadn't. But that's ok.)
I thought about what these people meant to me and my favorite memories with them.
And as the hours passed and the miles stretched on, I found myself feeling lighter.
As I crossed into Virginia and saw the mountains looming, fall colors on every side and cold weather creeping up on me, I realized that it's going to be ok.
When I pulled into my driveway and saw my parents coming out to greet me, I took a deep breath and said to myself,

"New beginnings start today, Lex." 

I'm not automatically back to "normal." It's not some magical transformation where I leave Tech and somehow find all of the joy and contentment I've been missing in my life these last 2 months.
But I know I'll get there.
I know that I need this. I need a separation and a clean slate. The past 8 weeks have taken a toll on me and my heart. I need to start the process of finding myself again.

It still hurts to think about how incredibly far I am from so many people that I love.
It hurts to think that some of them are out of my life forever, and that some of them will gradually fade away from me as time goes by.
But that doesn't diminish the memories I have with them at all.
It doesn't change the fact that I lived everyday life with them,
laughed with them,
ate with them,
acted with them,
cried with them,
fought with them,
slept with them,
and fiercely and loyally loved them.

But it's time to turn the page and start a new chapter. And I have to remember that just because I'm turning the page doesn't mean the one before it has to be forgotten.

I'm so ready.