[Munich. August 21, 2013.]
The time it takes to spill your guts–or perhaps the time it takes to summon the guts to tell your story–always differs from situation to situation. Either way, guts are involved and it’s messy and makes you feel like your showing everyone your “insides” while everyone else shows their best “outsides.” It’s taken me a while to spill these particular guts of mine because in a way, I’ve been hoping for a different ending to this particular situation.
And of course, I think it’s important to show the vulnerable parts of ourselves. But you surely knew that already. I write about it often.
My horoscope for this week from The Rumblr’s Madame Clairevoyant (though it’s admittedly not based on much astrology, if any; and I am not a so much a believer of astrology; it’s my favorite horoscope):
Taurus: This is a week for talking all the time; it’s a week for telling your life and telling your secrets; it’s a week for spilling everything you’ve ever kept inside you. It’s a week for talking things through and talking things over and making yourself heard. It’s a week for letting your speech go a little wild, for letting your speech show you things you didn’t even think you knew. Don’t spend too much time alone this week, if you can. Spend your days out in the world, spend your days talking, spend your days singing.
So here I am, getting a little wild. With my words.
I moved back to Munich at the beginning of July. Oh the hopes I had! My new job was everything I had wanted! I found a dreamy apartment with incredible roommates! Oh the greatness. Oh the hopes. Oh how high, high high I was flying.
And then the company had complications getting my visa so I sat around Munich, waiting for the phone to ring, eager to throw on my snazzy new digs and nude heals and finally get to start work. As always, the longer I waited the higher my hopes flew. By this time I suspect they were halfway between the Earth and Mars.
You know where this is going, don’t you? I knew you would.
Of course my company then, at the beginning of August, tells me they will need more time to try for a visa for me. So I should pack up and move back home. (As if I lived a mere 20 miles away, not halfway around the world, mind you.)
I don’t know what devastated me more: the fact that I would have to say goodbye to Munich once again, or the fact that my dream was in the palm of my hands, and it’s as though, finger by finger, it was pried from my grasp. The initial sobbing on the cool, hardwood floors was most likely because of my pride. My pride was bruised, and I felt as though I had been the butt of a huge joke. As the situation became more and more real to me, the more I realized that this wasn’t a bad dream, or that I hadn’t been the butt of a joke, but that this was my life, the more it hurt. The more I mourned for what was, what could have been. Trying to accept that this was somehow apart of my life for a reason and, at the moment, I have no idea why.
I do know that I’m trying to make the best of my time left in Munich. And I’m grateful I got to consult for such a great company for even just a short time. But I also know that my heart feels as though it’s been stomped on. My dreams have been yanked out from right underneath me and it’s a hurt you just can’t explain. It feels suspiciously like a breakup. And I don’t know how much more this battered heart of mine can take this year.
So, for now, I am applying for jobs back in the States, perhaps doing some more work for the company (but back home), keeping my head high, hoping that this will make sense eventually. In the meantime, it’s one of those things you take day-by-day. Enjoy the moments as they come.
And pray to God this year will start to look up soon.
“You have so many layers, that you can peel away a few, and everyone’s so shocked or impressed that you’re baring your soul, while to you it’s nothing, because you know you’ve twenty more layers to go.” -Craig Thompson