"Every night I ask myself...Am I giving enough? Am I?"
"God, you're brave!"
"I've always wanted to do what you're doing... but I just couldn't."
"You have such an interesting life!"
"Jealous!!"
I hear these phrases over and over again as I explain my experiences abroad, and my new life in Colombia. Because I am unable to fully accept a compliment, my usual reply is "There is a fine line, between bravery and stupidity!" I cut myself down juuuuust a bit by suggesting I may be jumping into something I can't handle. And maybe I can't handle it. I have always fought savagely with debt and loneliness... but that's normal for a single girl in her twenties who foolishly overspent on a couple credit cards, right?
Despite my hesitation in my initial reply, what I actually want to say is "Thank you." I'm flattered to be thought of in this way, and I truly appreciate your kind words. Hopefully my experiences will inspire you to do something you've always been afraid of. Maybe even something crazy like dropping everything you know and moving to a foreign country.
It's clear that fear has never been a factor for me when making big decisions. I Just Do It, Nike-style, and figure the rest out later. Does that make me a grounded, secure, and financially stable individual? Hellllll NO! But it sure does make for a good story. And people love a good story.
I am a self-motivated, go-getter, kickin-ass-and-takin-names-kinda-chick. I have the nickname "Crazy Aunt Jana" for a reason. I do cool things with my life that I've always wanted to do, and I'm inspiring people to do the same!
So... why do I feel guilty?
A couple days ago, my 62-year-old mother was in a terrible car crash. A semi turned on a green light as my mom was driving straight and plowed over her tiny Volvo. The wheel of the semi ended up on her hood, and her airbag deployed, but all safety structures held strong. My mother walked away without a scratch.
This is not the first time I've been away when something bad happened. In fact, I've always been away. When I was in highschool my Grandpa passed away. I was at a showchoir competition for the weekend and only found out after I returned. My Pappaw (grandpa on my dad's side) died while I was in college, but I had just accepted a trip to Stratford-on-Avon in Canada to see Shakespeare with my theatre class and my parents said to go. I didn't attend the funeral. The last time my mother totaled her car was winter 2012. She slid on black ice and flipped her car three times before miraculously walking away. I was in Woodstock, NY with friends enjoying a leisurely weekend in a cabin. As I walked out of work in a small Brooklyn coffeeshop, my brother called me to tell me that my twenty-something Sister-in-Law had cancer.
I am never around.
My really cool life has me gallivanting all over this beautiful blue Earth, but I sometimes feel I am failing at being a family member. I adore the sense of community in Colombia, but I cannot feel at home in the community where I was raised. I am always drifting, floating, sometimes running in the opposite direction of the Indiana plains, but I know I would be miserable if I stayed in one place. At least for now.
So what's my conclusion?... I'm not sure. I'm still searching. Bad things happen all the time. It is by chance that I've been away for most of them. No one can be there all the time for every person. But am I doing enough?
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