I cried the entire way home from work yesterday.
It’s not the first time I’ve done that. I’m a firm believer in a nice ugly cry every now and then. Whether it’s a frustrating day in the office, feeling homesick for my family, or hearing “Oblivion” by Bastille on my Spotify shuffle, sometimes I burst into tears. I usually feel better after it happens.
I cry when I feel too much of any emotion. I think I have a certain capacity for emotions, and when they surpass my limit, it’s like putting too much water in a pot to boil pasta. Sometimes it bubbles out all over the stove.
And to be honest, I wouldn’t say I cry often or it’s easy to make me cry; these tears are hard-fought.
But when I’m really angry, I cry.
When I’m really homesick, I cry.
When I’m really happy, I cry.
(I can’t believe I’m putting this on the Internet, but I cried when Mississippi State beat Auburn this year. I really don’t know what came over me — I just knew I was feeling so happy for my alma mater, I couldn’t do anything else. But that’s another post for another time. Hail State.)
In my case yesterday, I was feeling really loved and really lucky. Overwhelmed with the most sincere gratitude I’ve ever felt. Blessed beyond my emotion limit.
Tomorrow morning, Christopher and I will be flying to Los Angeles, and on to Auckland, New Zealand, to spend three weeks traveling and exploring the country. When we first met, one of our first conversations we had was about our bucket list destinations. Things we want to do. Places we want to go. New Zealand was one of our several wildest dreams.
We fell in love. We daydreamed. We planned. We saved. And through circumstances that were nothing short of divine intervention, we gave our dream a date and bought plane tickets to New Zealand.
And now it’s here.
I want to say to everyone who has loved me, supported me, and shared life with me for the past (almost) 24 years, thank you. If you had told me four years ago that I’d be embarking on a three-week journey to New Zealand, I probably would have laughed. I want you to know that I will not take this experience for granted.
To the people who grew up with me, thank you for putting up with my Lord of the Rings obsession. Thank you for encouraging me to embrace my passions rather than mute them. I recently cleaned out my room in the house where I grew up, and I took everything off the walls except for three faded Lord of the Rings posters. I think I owe it to 8th grade Mary Chase to leave those up while grown-up Mary Chase tramps about Middle-Earth.
(To be clear, yes, Lord of the Rings was a factor in wanting to go to New Zealand, but not the only factor. Relax.)
To my family, I will never be able to put into words what you mean to me. Ever. No matter how long and eloquently I try to write, words will constantly fail in expressing my gratitude and love for you. I don’t know what I could have done to deserve Morris and Pam Breedlove, Jayme Breedlove, Joe and Jo Ann Moss, Larry and Pam Mize, Meredith and Zack Reuter (and Scarlett), Bernice Swann, and everyone else we love so dearly. Thank you for supporting our dreams and sacrificing so much to make them happen. I love each of you more than you know.
To my friends, thank you for listening to me talk about New Zealand for the past year. I know it probably got annoying six months ago. Thank you for loving me and allowing me to share life with you. Thank you for spoiling me rotten with early birthday presents when it’s quite possibly the last thing in the world you could have spent time and money doing (looking at you, Erica Lanham, Meredith Yackel and Hayley Catt). Childhood friends, CentriKid friends, college friends, Atlanta friends, Barre3 friends, NAMB friends, and everyone in between: Thank you for enriching my life with your friendship.
I would like to personally invite anyone reading this to join us on our journey. I’ll post pictures and various updates on Facebook and Instagram, and I’d like to blog a little while I’m there. Expect several retroactive posts.
Kia ora, and let the #mizealand adventure begin.
All my love,
‘It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.’ – Bilbo Baggins