Thigh-land — Molly Wanders

This month started out hard for many reasons. Number one being, the end of my paid sabbatical-of-growth-and-revelations is getting too close for comfort.

I know I shouldn’t look at it that way, but thinking back to all the incredible adventures I’ve been straight up handed in just the last 11 months, I wonder if I’ll ever have this extreme, extended happiness ever again. Not saying it’s all been sunshine and butterflies, because #valleyofdespair is real and I certainly got knocked down by more than a few waves of life. That’s the beauty of it though; with every valley, there was always a high peak waiting on the other side (either in the form of an actual mountain peak, or a much needed conversation with a friend who understood me better than most ever have).

So here I am, called to the pages of this word doc, because that’s what I do when I’m having an emotional overload; I write.

You know what I’m about to face all over again? Big. Change. Sure, we change apartments every month. We change where we work from almost daily. We change countries, cultures and languages sometimes weekly. But I’ve found my groove within this fast paced ecosystem, one that doesn’t always have routine or structure, but it has my people. And soon it will all be ripped out from under me.

Real life. Paying off all the debt I’ve accrued. Coming home to friends who have moved away. Working in an office where I don’t know anyone anymore. Trying desperately not to fall into an old mold. I sound like a total crybaby. “Boo-hoo, I can’t travel the world anymore and have to live like a normal human adult, poor me.”

In all seriousness, I sank my teeth into this year and it’s going to hurt to pull away- that was always an inevitable truth.

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Exactly one year ago, I was company-approved, locked in, and ordering boxes of travel gear for my big Remote Year that lay ahead of me. I was nervous. Nervous about leaving home (got over that). Nervous about getting food poisoning (it happened). Nervous about being adequately prepared (I was). Nervous my luggage would get lost (it did). Nervous about things out of my control (I’m still alive and kickin’). But more than anything, I was nervous about the people I was going to meet. Would they like me? Would I like them? Would we share common interests? Would I make a best friend? Would I fall in love?

In hindsight, we were probably all most nervous about the people we were getting ready to spend a year of our lives with.

I receive a lot of messages from potential remotes asking me to address the negative reviews they’ve heard or read about Remote Year. I generally love getting these because I can confidently tell them that RY has done a remarkable job placing us in decent apartments, providing us with great Wi-Fi and workspaces, and structuring the program of a lifetime. Another thing I try to convey, is that while accommodations and Wi-Fi are super important, if not the entire foundation of the Remote Year corporation, it’s not the point.

We’re material beings by nature. I can’t say I don’t miss having a closet full of clothes, a car to take me anywhere at any time, and all my ‘stuff’ at my immediate disposal. But what this year has attempted to do is strip away all the things that used to help define us, and just leave… us. We wear the same clothes day in and day out. No one has an Audi to show off. We can’t take anyone back to a flashy condo we own. Style became creativity with what little we could carry in our suitcase. I have no idea what anyone drives back home, or if we even all have cars. I don’t know if the people around me lived in a mansion or their friend’s basement. Did these things really used to matter to me? I guess. Will they when I get back home? I hope not, because I’m out of money and moving in with the parents.

What I’m getting at is that although the material parts of Remote Year are key components and certainly make the year more sustainable, the real value is in the people. Even all places and personal feats I get to check off my bucket list only amount to a small portion of what I'm taking away from this experience.

So yeah, I fell in love.

I fell in love with humanity. I fell in love with the joys, the pitfalls, the good, the bad, the ugly and the beautiful. The smiles, the hugs, the kisses, the dancing, the singing, and the laughter that turned to tears. The helping hand. The words of encouragement. The patience and persistence. The understanding and acceptance of one another. The honesty. The bravery and the hope. Humanity at its finest transcends any and all barriers. You could say that humanity is flawed, and you would be right. Look beyond the clutter of material and social status, past labels and stigma, and we’re all just people. People capable of hate, but also love.

I can tell you that I fell in love with every single Meraki this year. The knowledge, lessons and realizations this community has given me are invaluable and unparalleled. This seemingly random assortment of humans continues to help me unlock things inside myself I never knew were there.

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So, December is almost here, along with the holidays and the impending doom of the end of our year. I say this more lightly now because I’ve taken the extremely painful but transformative time to face the coming of change, to figure out how I’m going to deal with it. If you think this sounds melodramatic, they have actually set up “Re-entry workshops” for us, so that we can re-enter into normal life. For some, it is impossible to go back to normal life, and they stay seeking the highs of this experience forever.

For me, its time to make a new path. I haven’t figured everything (or really anything) out yet, but I have some new intentions set, new questions to find answers to, and I’m going to let the universe do its thing.

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Oh yeah, I should probably mention I'm in Chiang Mai, departing Saturday for JAPAN! Thailand has been a total adventure, from the Phi Phi Islands, where five different RY communities met up for an unforgettable weekend, to the mountains of Pai, which brought plenty of hammocking and introspection. While the beginning of the month held a minor depression of sorts, we're all beginning to shake it off, take some deep breaths, and prepare for our final month together. It will be intense and it will be emotional, but mostly it will be filled with love and joy (and Christmas cheer).

*shoutout to Abbey Quigley for blog title inspo

#NP: Change - Tracy Chapman