Seasons

Spring seems to perpetually start my calendar year. My life is ruled by springs—spring always marks the beginning of some big life event for me. Whether it’s big city news, breakups, starting new relationships, or beginning a new job, spring is always like the first episode of a new season of some messy, funny, dramatic TV show that I call my life. It’s the catalyst that reminds me something new is about to begin—which lines up pretty neatly with nature itself: the awakening, sprouting, and blooming of new life, of new flowers, of just… you, in general.

And this year has been no exception. After an overall whirlwind year and a half—meeting my partner (who happens to be from the UK, and I from the USA), doing long distance after meeting in Vietnam, and spending a year flying internationally and counting down to the next time I’d see him—we decided to do something crazy. We quit our jobs, backpacked for a few months, and ended up in a country that’s totally new for both of us.

So here you find me at the beginning of this new season, both in nature and in my own personal TV drama. We’ll see what the season brings. I don’t really know why I’ve decided to start this blog. Maybe it’s the perennial millennial in me, if you will. But I’m walking through my brand new city of Vancouver, Canada, on a very wet, very cloudy, slightly miserable spring day—walking without an umbrella (rookie mistake, naturally)—and I find myself wanting some kind of outlet.

Maybe this will just go into the ether, some mindless void of no life at all. Or maybe this will find someone who needs it—or who finds something relatable in it. I’ve decided to just bear it all, really. And maybe it’s selfishly just for me in that way, like an online diary, because I find myself in a situation that’s totally new, which is equal parts exciting and scary. So about that mindset, I guess.

And while I’ve done big moves before—I’ve lived in Chicago, Miami—I’ve never quite done a move this big. Cross-country. Actually, I should say new-country. And I’ll be vulnerable: it is scary. I just got rejected from a job I thought I was overqualified for, and they didn’t even want to interview me. Not really sure what my next step is. So maybe it is selfish in this way—for me to start this blog. Maybe I just need to pour my feelings into something.

But also, I think maybe it could end up helping someone. Not just because moving to a new city in a new country is scary in general, but because it’s a pretty scary time in the world, period. The world is changing, and I’m not necessarily from a country that is super well-respected anymore. So it’s an extra scary time to show up in a place that doesn’t really value or respect my country in the same way it once may have. There’s not that much of a symbiotic relationship anymore.

It’s kind of funny that on the side, as my partner and I were backpacking for the last four months, the words of Trump seemed to haunt me no matter what country I was in. There was the Panama Canal speech—right when we happened to be in Panama. Then we were in Mexico when the tariffs were announced. In Canada now, during the trade war with the US. I don’t know why this man seems to follow me up through the Pacific highway. I’m trying to come here with an open heart, but I guess I’m just trying to find meaning in everything during a time when everything feels a bit uncertain.

And hopefully, I can find some. I believe that like attracts like. Maybe if I put myself out there to the universe, maybe it’ll serve some purpose that I don’t yet understand. Maybe it’ll bring me to like-minded individuals. Maybe I can help someone—or maybe someone will just find it comforting to know that someone else feels uncertain too.

So either way, I’ve decided I really want to be vulnerable and see what comes out of it. Welcome to the beginning of this new season, this new journey for me. I invite you to follow along if you feel called. Welcome.

Oh, and by the way—my name is Megan. But my friends call me Meg, and we’re all friends here. So go ahead and call me Meg.