A Really Big Oyster.

   So I went home. Cried on my Dad's shoulder. Panicked. Realized that without the boyfriend I had no direction. I could literally do anything that I wanted. Anything. I will admit my weakness here. I tried to go back. I back-peddled hard. In a shameful bout of fear I made a last ditch effort to save the relationship. I called. I cried. I may not have begged, but I had very little shame. Shockingly little.

Big girls cry.
 They cry  longer, harder and uglier.

   This is where the boyfriend gets all the credit in the world. He knew I wasn't ready. He recognized the relationship, not as true love, but as a direction for me. A life preserver in a sea that I was fearful of navigating on my own. He stayed strong. He stayed kind. He said no. I will always be grateful for that.


   So I acknowledged my truth. I could do anything. But what exactly did I want to do? Step one would be moving out of my parent's home. Seemed logical. Move where? As far away as possible seemed like a good first step.


 Some of my friends had taught English overseas. I  had all the pre-requisites. I was a native speaker and I had that B.A degree that was proving rather worthless in the workforce back home. This would be a way to use the degree and get a chance to meet Adventure face to face. I had worked in residential children's camps for the spring/summers of the past 5 years. I knew I could teach and most likely do it well.


  So in my brain it was settled. I was moving to a foreign country. I would be a teacher. I settled on a continent that seemed to provide decent money for these services. Asia. I had never been. Even though I had nailed the continent down there are were so many countries in Asia and besides the typical stereotypes and the traditional foods (by traditional, I mean the foods that were on the menus in the 'ethnic' restaurants in Saskatoon.) I had no real idea of what lay ahead of me in any of those countries. Now, instead of the world being just a huge baffling oyster I had narrowed it down to a continent. Which wasn't helping too much.
   
Then my beautiful best friend, Erica, whose shoulder I had cried on innumerable times, and who was well aware of my little self-indulgent, existential crisis emailed me a job ad she had found. It was for a Language School in Surat Thani, Thailand.


  Traditional town, close to the beautiful exotic beaches, short hours, and cute kids. I sent my resume. Two weeks later I had a ticket in my had.


 I closed my eyes, steeled my stomach and slurped that oyster down.

These taste better as metaphors.