Doors, and Windows

It’s been a while. Since the end of DTS I have experienced sporadic longings to blog; but these have usually been dispersed as I paddled to keep my head above the swirl of colours, emotions and events that have swirled in my consciousness. Sometimes I gave up and floated on my back. Or on my face, until the need to breathe forced me up again. Stifling, exhilarating, confusing- all of the above. But definitely consisting of doors and windows- albeit far too many to simulate in one blog post. And now, today it is four months exactly since I graduated, and with a little more clarity, I know that I want my words to be heard.

Which words? And where do I begin? I have chosen to start with a draft I wrote four months ago on debrief week, the end of DTS. And perhaps go on from there. This was a very clear cut door. And it all got hazy and exciting from there.

Debrief week is draining because the past six months have hit me like a sledgehammer. I swing from tears to nostalgia to energy highs to napping all afternoon. The mellow March skies and clear nights are the background to processing and transitioning- what to call it? Life changing sounds so cheesy. While struggling with extreme tiredness pulling me down and old habits and thought processes trying to insinuate themselves into my character, the sunset thrills my heart and makes me see the thread of everything I’ve done, all the ¬†sunsets I’ve seen, linked together and unchangeably part of who I am. If I choose it. It’s coming to terms with sorrow and loss and great joy all at once. Losing an ultimate frisbee game or losing my one on one due to visa issues; the bittersweet of going home, starting to long for stability but afraid of losing the amazing dynamic of living with my team…. along with sleeping and trying to journal it all? Not easy to balance. Quite a lot of the time I just want to binge read and eat chocolate. (Die-hard symptoms of true exhaustion.)¬†

On the other hand I can’t wait to write more of my stories. I did this, right? I’ve seen life from the sea and met some people you’d normally only expect in fiction. And I plan to write all of this down!

I was thinking about all the things I could measure DTS by, and physical appearance struck me- all of my jeans are ripped now, and I wear them with pride. I have acquired and lost so much clothing that my wardrobe is now apparently only describable as ‘Nyasha-like’- whether this comes from my insistence on wearing board shorts in March, or the teaming thereof with my 100% knitted fairisle ‘Jesus loves even me’ jumper, I am at a loss to discern. I don’t have my long braids any more (I do miss them.) I do however have one rebellious dread, as well as a streak of red hair, the result of my room mates spending the afternoon with bleach and red dye.

‘Ripped jeans’ entirely used to be my goal in life. But I don’t need them any more to be individual. I don’t even believe that I need to focus on being individual any more. That is part of life. Most days I can live that. Most hours, I know that I can see in colour and that there’s better to come.

Future blogging, I salute thee.

Photo cred: Benjamin Clegg

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