I started this post almost over 2.5 years ago now, but I wasn't sure if I should publish it. Now that I'm in a different place I feel confident enough to share with you my thoughts.
"Why do I always forget to take more pictures???"
Is the one thought in my mind as the plane engines roar and we speed down the runway of PHL airport.
"I have an iphone so there's no good excuse"
I tell myself next when the pilot pulls back on his controls and the plane tilts upwards.
Maybe it's from a childhood of being forced to stand in front of every useless landmark/structure/etc known to man everywhere we went. Completely pointless photos that were direct representation of the "for appearances only" underlying tone behind the scenes. Photographic records of a time regularly better forgotten than remembered. Probably best they were all taken away. Even the photos of the better times can't recreate the moment in time and serve more as a shadowy snap shot from a half remembered dream. Which serves as a subconscious tendency to avoid making a digital record and instead try to stop and savor each memorable moment for everything it's worth. Because the memory that you save in your mind is the perfect version from your perspective. You'll have jumped higher, ran faster and laughed harder than a picture will ever do justice.
My 10 days home in 2013 soared by in a flash of memories each as unforgettable as the one before. Yet the number of pictures I'll have to recount my experiences are next to none. And down the road I will kick myself and will crave visual representations of the memories I hold so dear. And I guess what it is that I really want and really feel as though I am missing is the feelings that I experienced in those moments now long gone by. But it is bigger than just those individual memories, or even a collection of the years gone past with too few pictures taken. It's more the general feeling that a place like home will bring you. A feeling that I have been without for far too long now. A feeling that leaves an unmistakeable hole inside of you.
Since I relocated to the west coast, I have always felt as though a tremendous part of me is missing. I have tried to fill it with training, with work, with money, with love, with dogs, and most harmfully - with food. Yet after trying all of those things, I still eternally feel misplaced and empty in a way that is super hard to describe. And so defines the underlying problem I've been quietly fighting these last few years that I have finally made the decision to confront head on and take control of once and for all. You could possibly call it depression, but I really believe it is more than that. Which brings me to my now blog chronicled journey back to finding balance and broad reaching happiness in all areas of my life.