Tomorrow will mark the three month anniversary of my move to Poland. Over the past three months, I have acquired an okay-ish Polish vocabulary, enough friends to extinguish my loneliness, as well as way too many “why-does-this-shit-happen-to-me?” stories. In case you’re wondering about the weird stories I’m talking about, they are better told in person but one of them involved a pant-less, drunk man outside my apartment complex. As always, no Karissas were harmed or in any danger in the making of these weird memories (memo for my Granny and Papa reading this).

Three months away from home is also an important landmark for me because it means it’s the longest I’ve ever been away from home. It’s kinda a weird feeling being in a place so unfamiliar to my official home town because the past three months have made it feel like a home to me. However, there will always be the connection to everything my home soil represents. I’ve sunk into a routine which feels really good because you don’t get that as a tourist or a traveller constantly bouncing around. Getting settled gives you a closer look. Every once in a while I’ll just be walking down the sidewalk and I realize, “Woah, I’m in freaking Poland”. I stare at the cars as they drive by and think of how silly and small they looked when I first got here. I watch the children in the main square chasing pigeons around and think about my own childhood chasing squirrels. I stand in my little apartment during my midday break and try to think less about the fact that I’m tired and might not have the necessary energy to teach, but think more about how far I’ve come in such a short three months. I’ve been reflecting on the biggest challenges I have faced and I count myself so blessed to realize that the physical obstacles have been so few. The hardest thing I have to face so far is myself. Being with myself 24/7 and having much of that time be time spent either alone or feeling alone. You see, being alone in a strange place means that sometimes it feels like you are the only one on your own side. And sometimes I’m not even on my side. I think the most difficult part of being a young adult is having to work through and accept your own flaws. I’m not just talking about the cutsie little flaws I have like needing a nap everyday or getting lost all of the time due to my poor sense of direction or the fact that I spell English words wrong way too often for an English teacher (I think crying during that spelling test in 2nd grade prophesied this). I must carry around flaws like the sins I have committed in my past, the desire to be lazy that consumes me on occasion, my mental health issues that tell me I’m not good enough for any of my goals and ambitions. The only way I can come to accept that I am so imperfect from the vision I have of who I would like to become is by realizing that the vision of who I would like to be will actually never exist in reality. All my imperfections will continue or be replaced by new ones. My forgiven sins will be ushered out by a multitude of new ones. I guess what I mean to say is that my short experience of adulthood has taught me that I really have no idea what the hell I am doing. But I think I take solace in the fact that I have realized that there really is no perfect “right” way for a human being to navigate life. And the only finish line in this race is death so let’s just see what happens till then.

In conclusion, I have learned so much in this past three months that has taught me that I know absolutely nothing. And now you have received a small glimpse into my circle of a thought process which is probably the reason I need more naps than a 5 month old.