why Spain ruined adulthood

I’ve gotten more then one comment about my emo-sounding Facebook statuses these days. Most of them have to do with being done with long weeks, and needing a drink.
(2016 has been long)
I don’t write them to get a reaction–it’s more like Facebook has become this weird time capsule of my life. And I really enjoy it.
(And I also I like sarcasm.)

I’ve been trying to find longer words and sentences to help explain the thoughts in my head. I’m much better at explaining them at my kitchen island or over group text. But when I try to long form these thoughts I hit a stalemate.

So here goes nothing.

Before I went on the world race in 2013, I had lived in Orange County essentially for about nine years. 

The first four in college and then from 2007 to the fall of 2012, I lived and worked in the area. I babysat a lot, went on adventures with my friends, was involved in my church, paid rent & bills, went to therapy, cooked my own meals, did my own laundry. 

What I am trying to say that before I went on my whirlwind two years of adventure, I had done the adult things. I had dealt with grown-up matters.

And then I went around the world and also dealt with adult matters that a lot of adults don’t deal with: emotional health, spiritual health, border crossings and praying against witch craft. 

But then? 

Then I went to Spain.

And if I am being honest it has screwed up being an adult.

I found out that I have more control over who I am then I ever thought.

I found out my presence changes things.

I found out that there is more to me.

I found out that I could change the colors of my flowers if I wanted.

And now I’m back in the states. Settled. Working 40 hrs a week. Involved in church. Paying bills, doing laundry. Not cooking as much as I should. 

But it’s different. Now, that I am settled and where I am going to be, I found myself living in this tension. 

Now, I know there is more.

And I’m not talking about more in the sense of “more out there”.

(backpacking living ain’t for me.)

Yes, I want to travel more and fill another passport. I want to go back to Spain and have a blue chair bocadillo and I want to see Samaritan Creation’s coffee shop and have Kay make me a Thai coffee.

I mean, there is more for me here. There is more to sink my teeth into. But right now, I’m living in this tension. And it’s weird to describe. Because, I know, I am here for a reason, for a purpose, for a life. And I know that apart of that is what I am living and doing being right now. But there is something beyond the everyday. 

The more is now and also later.


Here’s the tension: if the more is now, how do we put the more into our daily lives? How do I take all the things I’ve learned and received, that I attempt to walk in daily and use them?

How do I change the color of my flowers if no one else is?

How do I become a person who reacts out of who I am not who the other person is when the person doesn’t give a damn?

How do I fit the more into a 40 hr work week?

Being an adult was so much easier when I didn’t know any of this.

But I do, and I am grateful for the knowledge. I am grateful I have a voice and a mind and higher thoughts and the ability to live in this tension.

I know I’m here.

I know the more is now.

And I know the more the future.

I don’t have any answers.

I’m figuring it out.

2 responses to “why Spain ruined adulthood”

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