The year I was nineteen, I threw caution to the wind.I ran a half marathon to make myself proud. I cried and laughed at the finish line with some of the most inspiring and empowering women I’ve ever met.
When I was nineteen, I visited nine countries. I backpacked Europe and studied abroad in Ghana. I hiked up mountains in three countries. I realized that I was brave in Barcelona. I thought I found what I was looking for in Pompeii, only to realize differently a few months later. I felt alive in Paris and at peace under the stars in Switzerland. I gained a new perspective in Ghana.
When I was nineteen, I learned that, for me, home is people. I found home all over the world. In European hostels, an apartment complex in Ghana, and in the passenger seat of a car with Minnesota plates.
When I was nineteen, I had to work harder than I ever had before. I learned more about tents than I ever wanted to know. I led one team, then I led two. I learned about leadership through failure and I learned to be okay with that.
When I was nineteen, I found joy in the big, bold adventures. The sparkling Eiffel Tower. Drinking melon vodka in Rome. Going to concerts. Taking risks. Getting on trains without knowing where they were going.
At nineteen, I found joy in the little things too. Drunken laughter at 3am. Being the road trip DJ. Standing in the ocean and dancing in the night air. Dancing while doing dishes. Late night drives with the radio blaring and warm wind on my face. The twinkling city lights. Eau Claire sunsets.
When I was nineteen, there was a time when I felt so lost and broken. When I needed someone to hold me together. I had people who did. There was a time when my heart was ripped out of my chest, so hurt by the entanglement of complicated emotions and a careless reaction. So scared of loosing a friendship that meant so much. I didn’t. There was a time when my body felt the touch of unwelcome hands. I didn’t let it define me or the moments surrounding it.
When I was nineteen, I found my voice through writing. I wrote and wrote and wrote. Thoughts, feelings, ideas. Journal entries, blog posts, and letters. I loved the way that words can be strung together. How meaningful they can be. How they can make you feel something. Writing was a way for me to be vulnerable and open without having to face a reaction. Slowly though, with the help of a few people who never gave up on me, I let the walls come down. I learned that sometimes a reaction is beautiful.
At nineteen, I was brave. I put my heart on the line, a few times. I seized opportunities and bought plane tickets on a whim. I changed my major, it changed my life. I chased the stars. I followed my fire. I will continue to do so at twenty.
When I was nineteen, a friend said to me, “I hope you know that you don’t have to be anything to hang out with us.” I cried, because those words meant the world to me. Another friend told me, “To give 100% you have to be at 100%.” I ignored this advice for too long. I had some incredibly deep and meaningful conversations at nineteen. While driving at night, ice skating, and many many times in Ghana.
I had the most incredible people in my life at nineteen. They were beautiful, empowering, strong, passionate, and inspiring. The encouraged me to feel, encouraged me to dream. They had my back. They gave the best hugs. They were always there.
When I was nineteen, I started to feel alive. I carved my own path. I made a lot of mistakes but I regretted nothing because I learned so much. About myself, about life. I defied my own doubts. I became a world traveler. It’s what I’m most proud of.
The year I was nineteen was incredible, a mixture of challenging and beautiful moments. Nineteen was the best year yet. Here’s hoping that 20 is even more vibrant and full of life.
Hugs,
Elisabeth
