Coming full circle

When I moved abroad over a year ago, I knew it was for keeps. I was deliberately changing my life. Over Thanksgiving, I went back to Tennessee to visit my old world for the first time. I am happy to report my mission has been a success.

Back in Tennessee, every person I ran into did a double-take upon catching sight of me. Although most of them have me on Facebook or Twitter or at least this blog, they couldn't believe this woman is the Jessie they knew. In a single glance, it is obvious I am very different. Most of them would say something along the lines of, “You look great!”

Some changes are superficial. I have lost 20 pounds. My hair is sun-bleached. My skin is toasted pancake-brown.

There are no words to say how great it was to cuddle these guys.

But other changes are both more subtle, and more powerful. I smile more. A lot more. I stand taller. I talk more freely, peppered with laughter. I am less reserved. I engage those who matter, and blithely ignore those who don’t. I don't react to negativity anymore. My energy is ALIVE. I have pulled a 180 in the best way.

Coming back to Tennessee made everything stand out for me. First, the darker comparisons:

The main reason I returned was to be a bridesmaid in the wedding of one of my dearest friends. I did catch myself slipping back into my old personality a couple times—somewhat peremptory and officious—when we needed to get everyone where they needed to be. I’m afraid I haven’t eradicated that side of me, although it’s the first time I’ve acted like that this year.

My little brother baited me, as always, spoiling for a fight. I pretended not to notice, and nothing happened. I used to react strongly to being treated that way, and end up in a nasty argument. Not so now. By the end, he was actually apologizing to me.

A girl who was supposed to be a good friend cut me off when I needed friendship the most, at the time I got divorced. I even reached out to her at the time, told her it hurt my feelings and I needed a friend, and she said she was “on a fence”—meaning had to choose between my ex and me. I worked very hard to ensure my friends weren’t put in that position, and she is the only one who felt the need to drop one of us, and she picked me to drop. Eventually she deleted me on Facebook. I’m no longer hurt by it, though I was for a long time, and when I saw her, I just kept my distance. I gave her the chance to make things right and she didn’t. But the beautiful thing is I did not then sink into depression and agonize over what I did wrong. She is not a good friend, so I’m well shot of her.

Speaking of my ex, he was at the wedding. We both pretended the other didn’t exist. He’s still with the girl he started dating before our divorce was even final. This doesn’t arouse jealousy or anger but rather pity, that he can’t be alone. He left his girlfriend of 7 years for me, so there is clearly a sad pattern here. He wears fake eyeglasses now, which was like a shining little gift to me. If I ever felt uncomfortable, which was only once, I simply said to myself, “Fake eyeglasses. FAKE eyeglasses!” I haven’t seen him since the divorce, and I wasn’t sure how I would feel seeing him. Thankfully the rage is gone, and the heartbreak too. I felt only bafflement that I could ever spend so much time in an emotionally abusive relationship with an unworthy man.

But otherwise, everything was highlighted for me in the limelight of positive change.

I attended a reunion of my KidLit writing group, and one of them (love you, Jamie) said, “JESSIE. I have never seen you write like THIS!”

I went to lunch with my former boss and mentor, and did a quick round around the old office, and you wouldn’t believe the reactions people had. Many of them hugged me. I was surprised at how many of them said they read this blog. (Hi, guys!)

I went to my favorite pub, McNamara’s, and something like 20 friends showed up to say hello. They played my favorite song, one that I feel was almost written about me called “Beeswing,” a Richard Thompson cover.

I danced like a loon with my little nephew in the aisles even though no one else was dancing. I used to be embarrassed about what a bad dancer I am. My ex once danced with me and 20 seconds into the song he said, “You’re really not good at this, are you?” Talk about hurt feelings! I never danced in public after that, until I moved to Costa Rica. Now, I am still a terrible dancer—I mean truly bad—but the difference is I do it anyway, with no shame or fear or embarrassment, just joy and abandon.

With most people, I was able to pick up right where we left off—sort of. I mean, I’m different for sure, and some of the things they talked about, I couldn’t truly relate to, and I know the feeling was mutual. But that wasn’t bad in any way. Just different. I sang Frank Turner’s “Four Simple Words” with one of my friends, bellowing it at the top of our lungs like old times. I had Greek gyros with another and we were able to talk together as if no time had passed. I went walking at Radnor Lake and the trails that used to get me a bit winded were easy-peasy, and the friends I hiked with and I laughed and chatted away.

It was absolutely amazing to see my mom. She and I are very close and used to hang out together almost every Sunday. I haven’t seen her in over a year other than Skype. She and I went walking back through her property through the fields and juniper woods, splashing through the creek and talking up a storm. We went to lunch, watched movies, cooked together, and thoroughly enjoyed her company. I’ve missed her a lot.

All summed up, going back to Tennessee for a week was good because it allowed me the ability to reflect. I’m so much better, so much happier than I was before. Sure, I still have plenty of flaws, and I’ll never ever be perfect. I still have lots of work to do in this journey of self-improvement. But I am glad at who I have become, where all this hard work has landed. Proud, even. This crazy step has been the best choice I could possibly make in my life.

And when my plane descended into Costa Rica beneath the cloud layer and San José appeared like a nest of golden fireflies in the velvety night, I was even gladder to be home. Because let’s face it. I didn’t “go home” for a week. I just visited the place where I used to live.

Costa Rica is my home.