At Home In Your Own Skin

Yesterday I stood on a hill overlooking the town I’ve learned to call home these past few months. I took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh sky, letting the sun bake my bare shoulders, letting myself feel calm, feel peace.

I watched tiny children, running around an elementary school playground below. I watched the ocean waves cascading into the shore. I watched boats, like little dots, bob across the sea. I watched a plane float lazily across the sky.

I felt, for the first time, that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

I can’t explain it, really. That feeling you get when it seems like the world has fallen into place. When you feel whole, as if all the tiny pieces of you have finally melded together.

I wish I could make sense of it, articulate it, box it up and share it with the world.

I’m feeling this way, I think, because for the first time, I’ve decided to pursue myself. Not love. Not a man. Not a direction that someone else encouraged me to take.

Instead, I packed my bags and put my dreams in my back pocket. I started listening to my heart and my head as one. I stopped worrying about the outcome and instead put my faith in the unknown.

And now I feel complete. I feel ready. I feel a thousand emotions of strength and vulnerability and fear and love and happiness and wholeness. And it’s so so wonderful.

And so, I guess, what I’m trying to say is that you have to pursue it, whatever that ‘it’ is for you—a place, a person, a desire, a change. I hope that you can feel this feeling one day, too. I hope that one day, you can stand on a hill overlooking the place where you feel safe. And I hope that one day, you’ll smile and remember my words, and say, “Now I understand.”