This post is a bit out of the norm (no food – what?!) but it’s been on my heart lately so I thought I’d share. No worries if it’s not up your alley; I’ll be back Friday with a more typical post! xo
The other day, I got thinking about how I was feeling this time last year and the doubt I was facing as I started my undergrad experience. So today I thought I would take a little trip down memory lane. If you happen to be in a place of uncertainty about where you are or where you’re headed, I hope that some part of it resonates with you. And if not, I hope you enjoy a bit of story time.
Since Elementary School I’ve been saying that I wanted to move to Montreal for University. I am head-over-heels for the city and both of my brothers had great undergrad experiences there.
So when I stumbled upon the Dietetics program at McGill in Montreal I was SOLD. I would be learning what I was passionate about, living in a bustling metropolis and graduating with the title of Registered Dietitian. Rainbows and lollipops and puppies.
But I was thrown for a bit of a loop when I discovered that unlike most programs at McGill which are right in the downtown core, Dietetics is at a secondary campus in the middle.of.nowhere. I went to visit right after applying to get a feel for the town and I was NOT impressed. It was a dreary day, I saw a grand total of 3 people and walked from one end to the other in about 10 minutes. Needless to say, it was not what I had envisioned for my hopping university experience.
So I went back to square one and considered my options. Should I take a nutrition-based program at another school? Should I stick to McGill and choose a different major that would allow me to live in the city? Is there life on other planets?
But I think I always knew deep down that I had found the program that was meant for me. So I reluctantly started making my arrangements to move to Sainte-Anne and eventually the time came to actually do it. I had a tearful farewell dinner with my mom and found myself questioning what in the world I was doing here. I was away from Josh and my family in a town I didn’t really like with zero friends.
But oh how I wish I could go into the restaurant and have a chat with that Jacklyn.
I would tell her that time has such a way of making sense of things. That a year later, I feel so very at home in Sainte-Anne and that I have such peace and excitement about the path I’m on. That every weekend that I go home or someone comes to visit feels like Christmas (and so I get to have Christmas ALL THE TIME). That I have met wonderful people who make it impossible to be lonely. That I got such a false first impression of Sainte-Anne and that it is a town with such character. That I have settled into a lifestyle that makes me feel alive. That this past year has taught me a lot about who I am and how I see my future.
That I should have just trusted.
For the record, I think sometimes we get a bad feeling about a situation that deserves to be listened to. Constantly being in an environment that brings us down is not something that I think should be approached with an attitude of “I just have to stick it out”.
But other times, we find ourselves in a place that we recognize is probably for the best but just don’t understand WHY right now. And in those times, I think it’s okay to have a couple of good cries and wonder aloud why things are going the way they are. But then I think we can choose to see the good in the little things and to open our eyes to the possibilities that doubt has a way of preventing us from seeing.
I don’t have scientific literature or a peer-reviewed source to back myself up, but more and more I find myself convinced that things really do have a way of working out in the end. And that when we look back, we realize – whether or not we did at the time – that we were exactly where we where supposed to be.
Let’s do Wednesday.