Home.

It was a year ago from today that I drove home from Nashville. As I blared the music in my small PT Crusier, driving away from the place I thought I would love, I couldn't help but flip the city off as I watched the skyline disappear in my rear view mirror. With a "Fuck You Nashville", I drove down the highway into the mountains of Tennessee. I drove off, never to see the city again. 

I was in need of rest, rest from my mind and rest from the lies that somehow creeped back into my mind after years of being free. How do you recover when your mind relapses? I was a mess and I was broken. Life in Nashville was difficult for me. Returning to the states is never easy and reverse culture shock hits you hard. I'm still dealing with it and processing situations that happened a year ago. It sucks, and to be in Iceland of all places is even more crazy. 

Iceland is beautiful. When you run into the landscape, you feel free and endless. Within nature though is darkness, and sadly, darkness exists even in the most beautiful nation. Most people I meet living in Iceland came for either love or are on the run. When I first came here, I was on the run without even realizing it. I needed a new home, I needed to mature, and Iceland just happened to be the place. 

Home is a place that isn't physical. You can't touch it, but you can feel it. In the summer of 2015, I lost my home and found myself homeless in one of the most expensive cities in the world. I slept from couch to couch and even slept in a car. My belongings were packed away and spread all over Iceland in different storage rooms and basements of friends. I only carried a few clothes with me and of course my aeropress and favorite coffee mug (Can't live without ya know?) It's not that I can't live out of a suitcase, but it's the not knowing that was killing me. I couldn't cook anymore, or go home to rest after a long day in the city. I didn't have a base. My visa situation was also up in the air and I wasn't sure what country I would be living in in the new year. 

Fast forward to now: I have a permanent residency visa, married to the man I fell deeply in love with, I have a flat for at least two years, and I'm working with coffee and have some amazing friends. So much has changed with where I was a year ago to now and through all of this, I'm beginning to learn more about what home is and what it really means. 

Working on the main street in Reykjavik, many tourists stop in for coffee. I've noticed the difference between cultures especially Europeans vs Americans. Europeans come in wanting cappuccino or lattes and sit down with a snack or cake for two hours. Americans or more in a rush. Majority of Americans get coffee to go and normally have an Americano, Filter coffee, or a vanilla latte. With American's, I normally get asked the dreaded question: "Where are you from?!?"

I hate that question, but not as much as the question that follows: "You live here? Don't you just love it?" That one's even worse. Most of the time I nod simply, I mean how do I answer that question that is way too detailed to get into. 

Iceland is not a utopia. It's not a safe haven, or this quirky and perfect little society that lives in the north. It has less to do with the way of living as I definitely love having national health care, great holiday pay, maternity leave etc, but more the atmosphere and darkness. But despite that, I have found home in a country full of people searching. I don't even know how I found this but I did some how. 

Growing up in small town Ohio, I knew I didn't belong. Ohio never felt like home and I spent most of my teenage years dreaming of an escape. I longed to travel Asia, backpack Europe, and save all the children dying in the middle east. Typcial right? However, living in Iceland is where life has brought me. I won't be here forever, but I'm going to live everyday as if I will. With this mindset and mentality, life in Iceland stops being so difficult. Instead of complaining about how much Iceland sucks, I have more of a determination to go out and make a difference. If I don't like something, I will go out and attempt change. Live life where you are as if you'll be there forever. It's the best motto, and it really helps you overcome even the darkest winters. 

So to answer the dreaded question... Do I love living in Iceland?

Iceland is home. I neither love it nor hate it. It's the place where I have sought rest despite the restless atmosphere. I have restarted a journey of freedom and forgiveness in a country that likes to run. I'm seeking counseling in a vulnerable-less country. I have found love and anxiety all within the same mix. It's difficult, it's beautiful, it's a life long journey that I'm willing to continue down. I will be in Iceland till my time is done which could very well be forever. Does the idea of being in Iceland forever terrify me? Absolutely. Am I willing to accept that challenge? Well... yes, because right now, Iceland is home. As cheesy as it is, home really is where the people are and right now my people are here in Iceland. This is home in all of it's dirty and glorious mess. 

Takk Ísland for being a land for all the weird and broken. 

As I begin a new journey of process and forgiveness, I wanted to write a blog about reverse culture shock and my experience with it in the states. However, it hasn't really worked out. I'm still healing and still trying to move on from what I endured. I will at some point write about reverse culture shock, but before I do I need to properly heal. 

Thank you for being patient with me. These last few months have been very tiring and it's been good to sit down and write everything out, even in this silly blog post about home. 
Till next time, sjaumst.