williamwataru

I have been pressuring myself to write on a daily basis for the last two months. A part of me feels afraid to miss out on documenting this liminal space I currently occupy. It’s a part of my life I will never be able to experience again, and one that contains potentially some of the best memories, so for me, of course I want to record the experience somehow.

Journaling has been great for me the times I actually do it. Writing forces me to slow down and think clearly. Those times in my life when I successfully wrote consistently, I find I am able to read those journals and create a reasonably accurate impression of what I was like at that time. For many memories older than 5-10 years, my memory is a bit shaky. I remember feelings more than events and dates.

For example, I remember hanging out with my friends in our UCSB dorm rooms before, after, and between classes. At that time, every moment felt like an opportunity to hang out with my friends and have fun being a young student. Compared to being a full-time worker, I had much less responsibility. I had the goal of getting good grades in order to earn a degree and get a stable job, but I also had the goal of having as much fun as possible and enjoying those amazing years of my life. Nowadays, what I really remember is bonding with people and trying to have as much fun as possible. The individual days and weeks have mostly blended together.

I am so fortunate to have lived in a comfortable environment my whole life. I didn’t really have any huge challenges involving basic necessities like food, water, or a home. I just didn’t have to worry about things like that at all, and early on in my life, I think I assumed that kind of stability was simply part of life. In many ways, there has almost always been some sort of structure beneath me and a relatively clear idea of what came next.

The last six years living in Oregon have been some of the best of my life. I feel incredibly fortunate to have had the experiences I’ve had and to have connected with great people throughout the years. I feel thankful for the opportunity to have lived in such a great community. I am also thankful to have had a wonderful place to begin the life I now share with my wife, Sara.

Sara and I have an open-ended plan for traveling abroad for a while in between leaving Oregon and settling wherever we end up settling next. We have a general idea of what will happen until mid-November, but beyond that we really aren’t sure where we will end up or what we will do. We have areas in the US we both love, like the Bay area and LA, but we also have other countries we are interested in living in as well. For the first time in my life, I don’t really know what the exact next step will be.

I guess a part of me has romanticized this decision so much in my head that I’ve really enjoyed the planning and haven’t stressed too much until this point. Today, I felt a bit anxious thinking about the fact that I am leaving in one week’s time and I have no idea when I will be back. I suppose that kind of ambiguity is a little unsettling for someone who has made relatively safe decisions his whole life.

Perhaps one of the reasons I am so drawn to this decision to travel long term is that it will force me to navigate the unknown and truly test my ability to deal with a variety of situations. Of course, I also expect to meet a few friends along the way and have experiences that will be worth the long journey.

As the days fade until only our departure date remains, I’ve vowed I will do my best to be present for these moments spent in this peculiar place, between places.

But why does the possibility of forgetting this version of my life bother me so much, anyway?