SIMPLE LIKE A MOUNTAIN
Your Go-To Source For Leaning In and Holding On
"If it is simple, it's simple like a mountain is simple."
--Jonathan Safran Foer
Last year, I took a monumental leap of faith and moved to Germany-- to support my love and to write a book. I have had some incredible opportunities to travel the new continent in which I live, and I've enjoyed sharing the highlight reel of those travels with you. I've wanted to start a blog for quite some time, but couldn't bring myself to do it. Now I know why. While home for Christmas last year, so many people said 'I'm living vicariously through you,' or 'I'm so jealous of your life.' I felt a pang of guilt every time, thinking: if only you had seen me last week in the moments between those photos I shared. But I never spoke up. I never said anything about crying the whole way home from the grocery store over a language barrier with the cashier. I never spoke about the realization that no matter how perfect my partner is, one person cannot keep another person happy on his own, and I miss my Mom and my girlfriends. I didn't mention the loneliness I feel in situations where I cannot communicate or will not communicate, for my fear of messing up a German sentence. Or how absolutely destructive insecurity and doubt can make a person. Because I want it to be so-- this blissed-out, simple-life perfection. We live in a culture full of people 'branding' themselves: beautiful, happy, perfect. There are countless aesthetically pleasing Instagrams, full of photos that make bliss look simple. I want to share my journey with you, but I'm going to share the whole dang thing and it isn't always as aesthetically pleasing as my Instagram feed. Yes, Europe is as beautiful as you think it is. Yes, my partner and my dog are as freaking adorable as I portray them to be. But the rest of it can get so messy. Living in a world where you understand a very small fraction of the conversation. Understanding new customs, being a control freak and living with another person for the first time, and most of all- The Mean Reds. In Breakfast at Tiffany's, Truman Capote writes (by way of Holly Golightly) ‘The blues are because you’re getting fat or maybe it’s been raining too long. You’re sad that’s all. The mean reds are horrible. You’re afraid, and you sweat like hell, but you don’t know what you’re afraid of. Except something bad is going to happen, only you don’t know what it is. You’ve had that feeling?’