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.