After 12 hours of travel, three cups of coffee and four failed attempts at napping, I plopped onto the beige ferry seats feeling exhausted and in awe of everything I’d experienced in one day.
I should have been out on the boat deck, taking in the sights of Seattle, Mount Rainier and the Cascade and Olympic mountain ranges that tower over the surrounding islands, but a small voice inside begged for me to remain seated.
“Tired?” the woman beside me asked with a quizzical look splashed across her face.
“You have no idea,” I laughed, telling her about how I nearly missed the ferry because I got lost and kept dropping my hundred-pounds-worth of luggage.
I continued to tell her my story: where I was from, what I came to the Pacific Northwest to do and what my plans were after returning to Indiana once summer ended.
“Sounds like you’re in for quite the adventure,” she smiled politely.
“I think you’re right. Probably my most daring yet.”
A horn sounded as we made our final turn toward the station. Large houses perched on hillsides lined the rocky beaches where land meets the Puget Sound. Everywhere I looked, I saw evergreen trees – it’s no wonder Charles T. Conover suggested Washington be dubbed “The Evergreen State.” This enchanted place would be my new home for the next three months. It felt like another world.
“Welcome to Bainbridge Island,” the woman extended her hand, offering to carry one of my suitcases. “My name is Carol by the way. Here’s my number if you ever need anything. Oh! And make sure to eat at Blackbird Bakery, Fork & Spoon and Emmy’s Vege House — at least once, that is. Oh! And…” the woman proceeded to list off local eats and treats.
(With the exception of a McDonald’s, chain restaurants are not permitted on Bainbridge Island, so there are a lot of quaint, artisan businesses, all of which make delicious food.)
We walked to the parking lot, where my ride, a fellow intern, was waiting, and the woman gave me a hug. I never saw Carol again, but her forecast for my summer was spot-on — at the very least, it would be an adventure.
BEFORE MY editorial internship at YES! Magazine, I thought I had everything figured out. I was confident of my place in the world and thought myself ready to tackle any obstacle, no matter the cost. (In my family, we call this mindset the “Hardy curse.” The lot of us tends to be tenacious, resilient and driven individuals.) It was that Type-A, go-getter mentality that nearly destroyed me in Washington. But more on that later.
We arrived at the intern house as the sun sank below the horizon, casting rays over the peaks of the Olympic Mountains the way a lighthouse’s beams break through the dark of night: startling and brilliant.
Somewhere between unpacking, hanging up some keepsake photos and making my bed, I sat in the middle of my floor to survey my new makeshift bedroom. I’d traveled abroad before, and I had been living away from home while attending Ball State for two years, but the familiar faces decorating my unfamiliar surroundings only made me homesick and aware of my loneliness. I brought my hands up to shield my face as warm tears clouded my vision. The small voice inside returned, praying, “Lord, I need your help.”
After my initial sadness, I vowed to never give in to those feelings again if I could help it. “You can do this. You will do this,” I told myself, forcing away thoughts of home and the loved ones I’d left behind.
I woke the next day to a sunny sky – something I soon learned is a rare gift in the Pacific Northwest – and was eager to go to work. With my car some 2,200 miles away and the house bikes in shambles, I laced up my shoes and began my new daily routine of walking just over a mile to the magazine office.
Fortunately, Bainbridge Island is a pedestrian-friendly place with speed limits as slow as molasses.
DURING MY WALK HOME, I explored a little. I wandered down to the rocky beach where the ferry docked, crossing my arms to fend off the chilly sea breeze. Despite the island’s remarkable beauty, everything felt foreign and strange.
Unfortunately, this was the first of many similar moments to come. I wanted to enjoy myself and live in the moment, but for some reason I couldn’t. It felt like my world was slowly spinning out of control.
Way outside of my comfort zone, I was alone and vulnerable. So to compensate for this, I decided to take control of the one thing that I could: myself.
From day one, I gave myself a strenuous, set schedule. And it made me feel safe…for a little while.
I woke up, went for a morning run or swim, walked to the community pool, where I signed up to teach part-time swim lessons, walked to my internship, walked home, made dinner and went to sleep keeping my eyes on the prize.
Here’s the problem. Somewhere along the line, amid that meticulous and overactive schedule, I lost track of myself. Caught up in the web I’d so intricately weaved, I was completely neglecting my wellbeing. Everyone around me noticed, but I foolishly ignored this reality. Eventually, there was a heavy price to be paid.
Things changed on July 11, the day after my birthday. My body, in an outcry for attention, broke down. Sickness confined me to bed, where the only thing I could do was the very thing I tried to avoid: think.
I walked to the bathroom in a daze, feeling anxious to go outside and feed the exercise compulsion I’d developed. But one look in the mirror changed my mind. Gazing straight into my tired, sunken eyes, I realized the whispers and concerns of my parents, friends and co-workers over my weight were true. I didn’t recognize the person staring back at me.
AS HUMANS, we all have a different idea of what a picture-perfect life looks like. We are taught from a young age that hard work can lead us into that picture-perfect life, and so, we devote our efforts toward reaching that final goal, whatever it may be.
But at what cost?
Life demands so much from us, and it seems that each passing year brings with it the unspoken expectation that we must cram more and more into our daily lives if we wish to attain a better life. Technological advancements only amplify this new world we live in.
But I’m not convinced that our “do-more” society is leading us toward a better future. Because as long as the battle to be the best, to reach that picture-perfect life rages on, dissatisfaction will continue to reign over our lives.
As college students, we jam-pack our lives with clubs, meetings, jobs, classes, social commitments, sports…the list goes on and on. Although a lot of those activities are meant for good, overexertion – in my case at least – will ultimately lead to our downfall.
Socrates once said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” And as I reflect on my whirlwind summer, I realize this truth had become my cold reality.
I failed to see how destructive my daily habits were because I did not allow myself to stop and examine how I truly felt and why.
I ignored my wellbeing in order to reach my self-constructed idea of perfection. And because of this, I never felt satisfied.
LAST SEMESTER, Ball Bearings wrapped up the academic year with an issue dedicated to adventure. (Oh, the irony.) Our then Editor-in-Chief, Matt Holden, described adventure as doing something new, as “stepping outside of your comfort zone in order to feel something or to learn something.”
Hindsight is 20/20, but in re-reading that passage today, I feel like it was written for me. If I took all that I learned over the course of my three-month Bainbridge Island stint and put it on paper, I could write a book. Who knows, maybe I will. For now, a condensed version will do.
Looking back, I wish I’d allowed myself to live freely, to listen to myself and let go, to not worry about being flawless. It would have given me a deeper appreciation for all of my experiences, and it would have saved me from a lot of pain. But on the other hand, I’ve learned that sometimes you have to lose yourself in order to find yourself. After all, once something is shattered, it’s just a matter of picking up the pieces. And that’s what I’ve been doing since August.
Seeing my frail reflection was a turning point for me, and I’m thankful to say that today I am almost fully recovered.
We can strive to be the best. We can go to the ends of the earth and do whatever it takes to get there. But we cannot forget who we are, why we are here, where we are going and what life’s all about.
Our lives should not be approached as a means to an end. We simply cannot afford to live an unexamined life.
