This is the Moment

Hello friends,

There’s a line that the incomparable Brooke Davis says in One Tree Hill that has always stuck with me. She says, “How many moments in life can you point to and say: ‘That’s when it all changed?” 

That line has played on loop in my head over the past couple of weeks because I’m in one of those moments right now. 

Up until this point in my life, I’ve been pretty single-minded. My goal has always been (and I mean always – picture Baby Abbey with a 15-year plan) to keep my head down and get through as much school as I needed to invest in a fulfilling career. After six years of college and another year of pandemic flex time, I’ve achieved that goal. I’m no longer able to easily compartmentalize my experience into my academic life or my work life alone and in so doing justify not being as holistically involved in all aspects of what this world has to offer. Now, this is just my life. And it’s time to make myself more available and open to pursuing the things and people that I love. 

Transition is a scary thing for me, as I’m sure it is for most people. I have always hated change, even though over time I’ve also come to see it as a beautiful thing. I remember in middle school or early high school when my favorite doctor moved across the country. I cried for days because I simply couldn’t dare to imagine a world where she wasn’t the one recommending changes to my insulin. 

I’ll paint a picture for you: right now, I’m at a beautiful Tuscan-style inn and vineyard overlooking the Willamette Valley. It’s early morning (I love getting up early when I’m in a new place), there’s green tea on the table in front of me, and the sun is streaming over the hedges in the private garden just outside my room. It’s bougie, I know, but I thought coming out here for a day or two with my mom would provide a nice opportunity to reflect and center myself before moving into this next phase. 

Tomorrow, I will say goodbye to my best friend as she moves to Seattle to start her new, awesome fellowship doing humanitarian work for a global organization. We’ve been inseparable for the past three years, and though I am so proud of her, that goodbye is going to hurt. It may even lead to the crying for days scenario I just described, in all honesty.  

The day after, I start my new big-kid job and over the next sixth months or so will also navigate supporting other close friends with their transitions into the rest of their lives post-school, buying a car, moving, etc. while simultaneously returning to some semblance of vaccinated normalcy which, for me, typically means travel.

Those are the practical elements of this transition. But I also recognize this time as a seismic shift internally regarding what I choose to invest in and make myself available for long-term and what I don't. It's a chance for me to be thoughtful and intentional, to say yes to the good and no to the things that aren't serving me or a greater purpose anymore. 

I have always prioritized family, my closest friends, school, and work – those things were easy enough for me to balance. But in focusing on those four things alone, I purposely chose not to invest in certain people in my life, in romantic relationships, in hobbies that I do or could enjoy, in various adventures in adulthood, or in more structured service to my church and others. I’ve been a woman on a mission and now that that mission has been accomplished, I get to open myself up to all the other wonderful things that life has to offer. That’s both exciting and super scary. 

Given my musings on this blog, it may surprise you to know that I do not like to be vulnerable. Like at all. I share in this space not necessarily for my own benefit (though it does serve as an outlet), but more for the common good. My family and very best friends get tastes of the “real me,” so to speak, but out in the world full of unknown I tend to be quite reserved and socially anxious until I warm up. Side note: My favorite thing ever is when people get to know me and realize that I’m nothing like they thought I was... it makes me laugh. 

I even have a hard time saying hi to my neighbors, who are lovely, because it’s a social interaction I hadn’t accounted for in the day that involves too many variables and too much exposure. This anxiety, coupled with my school and professional commitments, has protected me from harm for quite some time. But what it hasn’t done is allow me to grow in the areas that are most life-giving. It’s time for me to challenge myself because it’s worth it. It’s time for me to get comfortable being uncomfortable because I want to milk this life for all it’s got. 

I’ll be real with you though, writing that just now and intentionally choosing to be uncomfortable totally makes me want to throw up. But it also excites me because trust and risk in my life has lead to the most wonderful things. 

I’m committing to letting newness in and I hope that that commitment will continue throughout the next few months and years and hopefully the rest of my life.  Newness isn’t a bad thing – it’s a great thing – and I don’t want my fears to prevent me from experiencing the magic in this world. There are no more excuses, at least for me. 

This post is my starting point. I’ve put a big fat check mark next to my only concrete plan I had in life and now I just get to ride the wave. This is the moment that I can look back on and say, “That’s when it all changed.” I hope that, in some capacity, me sharing my story can serve as a starting point for you too. An opportunity, perhaps, to let something new and exciting into your own life. I can’t wait to revisit this post in time and appreciate all the ways my life has grown and moved (and yes, changed). 

Though, disclaimer, if I write a post in the next weeks or months about how panicked I am about life, can you help hold me accountable to the whole embracing change thing? K, thanks. 

Talk soon, 

Abbey

Titular Song: This is the Moment from Jekyll & Hyde the Musical