The day I moved to Nashville was one I’ll never forget. One minute I was bobbing along to “The Great Adventure” by Steven Curtis Chapman; the next, I was this close to turning my car around and calling the whole thing off. But with good luck texts and a plethora of good wishes, I felt alive. I was doing the thing I always wanted to do, breaking free from my boring hometown and embarking on an adventure in Nashville, of all places. Taylor Swift and I would become best friends and Dolly would adopt me as her own. The world was my oyster.
Sooner or later, the hoopla of moving died out. I had my “party’s over!” moment as people started turning off the hypothetical lights of my hypothetical party. People stopped texting me. Reality set in. I realized I was in a city where I knew a handful of people if that. I didn’t even know how to get to Target, which is a crisis in itself. I started to wonder what I had gotten myself into. All was well.
Luckily, things started looking up. At some point, I realized I could finally get to work without using Google Maps. I noticed I had a favorite drink at my new favorite coffee shop. I found comfort in new traditions like Sunday night Mexican. Though I missed the familiarity of home, the newness now felt refreshing and exciting. I had arrived. I was finally achieving the goal I so desperately longed to achieve: to become settled.
And then Wednesday happened. Just a normal Wednesday. There was nothing particularly stressful or obscure about this day other than it was a Wednesday in which I felt "off." Turns out, I was just feeling. The Enneagram 7 in me struggles to understand this foreign concept. I thought the pit in my stomach was a result of the burrito I had for lunch. When in reality, I was just sad. I missed home. I missed being known by the servers at my favorite Mexican restaurant. I missed effortless, deep friendship. I missed the simplicity of college, tight-knit community, and running into people I knew at Wal-Mart. I thought I had settled. I thought I was fine. Why was I sad?
The reality is, moving/starting a new job/post-grad life, in general, is hard. And it’s OK that it’s hard. We don’t have to act like it’s a walk in the park. If you’ve taken a risk, stepped out of your comfort zone, or are simply adjusting to an uncomfortable season, give yourself some credit. Allow yourself to feel whatever you’re feeling, and then allow yourself to move forward. You’re not “behind” just because you have days where you don’t feel settled. You’re not failing if you sometimes miss home. In fact, it probably just means you're a normal human being adjusting to a life-change. Isn't that liberating? Here I was thinking I was a psycho for missing a place I lived for 22 years. McKenna, honey, come on.
Things to Remember in Seasons of Change:
McKenna Best is a Carolina girl currently residing in the bachelorette and hipster capital of the world. She believes in Jesus, dancing in the kitchen, and slow mornings. McKenna is an assistant youth director and spends her afternoons working with middle schoolers in West Nashville. In her free time, you can find her eating Chipotle, making an excessive amount of Spotify playlists, writing in a coffee shop, watching The Office, or spontaneously buying a plane ticket somewhere. She is passionate about equipping youth to unlock their potential and be all that God has called them to be, whether that be through teaching Bible lessons, or writing articles for a variety of online platforms