Out of the comfort zone... how it all began

When I first decided to step out of my comfort zone I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I guess not knowing, but really wanting to do something to look back and be proud of, was enough encouragement to pack my things and leave ‘home’. Although with time we tend to forget, if not erase the past, I still remember vividly the enthusiasm I felt waiting at the airport terminal and talking to an old couple about the new adventure I was embarking. They looked at me with their ‘you are so young, you should be proud of yourself’ look, that it really made me feel proud of myself. We chatted for awhile and then we all boarded our respective flights.

I arrived at around seven at night, although it looked more like four in the afternoon. I thought I had heard on the news that it was going to be cold that day, and I say thought because I arrived wearing boots, black pants and long sleeve turtleneck to an 80 degrees autumn afternoon, which felt more like summer. I did all the things I had to settle in my new home, a home that, that first day, was filled with no more than my bags, myself and my hope.

From day one I had already learned my first lesson. Being a stubborn ‘I don’t ask for help’ kind of person, by myself and three floors of stairs to take my bags up to, the words just came out of my mouth as if I’ve been saying them for years, “could you please help me…”. Up the stairs and into my new home I said the words I have been saying for years and had taken me so many places… thank you.

And so, I had stepped out of my comfort zone, miles away from home. It was going to be a new beginning, a new life, a new adventure. Now, it’s been 1 year, 4 months and 21 days. I count them all, because all of them count. It’s been days of ups and downs, chattered dreams but endless hope, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.