Summer has been an emotional time for me for the past few years and the trend shows no sign of abating.
In the summer of 2007, I sold the historic bungalow that I had come to treasure as my home. I ruminated over whether I was doing the right thing to shed the responsibilities that come with home-ownership ahead of enrolling in law school, but when the time came to sign on the dotted line, I was ready.
I spent the rest of that summer tolerating my job and counting down the days until I could leave it behind and enroll in law school. Inasmuch as my job was something to be tolerated at that point, leaving was bitter-sweet event, to be sure. I had many wonderful memories of some colleagues and unbelievable stories about others, as anyone would after eighteen years in one place. My work had provided me with many opportunities for which I’m grateful. For better or for worse, however, when I left, the organizational culture had been undergoing a shift and I'd gone from being an insider looking out to an outsider looking in. When it came time for me to go, I was ready.
In the summer of 2008, I realized a years-long dream and enrolled in a summer study-abroad course in Spain. For two weeks after arriving in Madrid, I felt nothing but giddiness. After that, the one-two punch of being away from the Boyfriend whom I loved and of living in a foreign country where every day presented a new challenge, puzzle, or frustration hit me. I found some comfort in the romantic attentions of a handsome man whose acquaintance I made while in Madrid, but that brought with it more emotional turmoil. Every day was a cycle of missing the Boyfriend in the US, looking forward to going out with Madrid Man, feeling very much at home in Europe, and longing to be regarded by people in the street as something other than just another American tourist. I reveled in weekend trips to visit friends in France and Italy, which were emotional experiences of their own, and longed to stay in Europe, but when it came time to go home, I was ready.
After I returned to the US, my Boyfriend proposed to me on a weekend leave from his temporary work assignment in Maryland; we deepened our promises to one another and called ourselves married. Our newly-wedded bliss was short-lived, as he returned to Maryland and I temporarily installed myself with my grandparents in the small town where I grew up. By day, I interned for a district attorney and loved learning about criminal law. By night, I struggled with a paper that I was writing for school, missed my Boyfriend-Turned-Husband, fretted over how to disclose Madrid Man to him, and debated the nature of my recent nuptials with my grandmother. In the interstices, I renewed my relationship with my grandparents, who entertained me with their own antics and their doting over my dog.
In the summer of 2009, I went to Beijing for five weeks. I didn't pick up a romantic interest in Beijing, which made some things easier and some things harder, no pun intended. My emotional experience was otherwise similar to that of Madrid -- life in a foreign country can be grinding, regardless of how eager you are for the experience. Even now, however, I get nostalgic for both Madrid and Beijing.
I spent the second half of the summer in Charlotte, living with a close friend whom I've known for years and working for the public defender. Both experiences were fulfilling and edifying. I treasured both the quality time spent with my roommate, as well as his generous hospitality, and the experiences that I had at work, with an equally warm and generous cohort of colleagues. I found a career that I could do after law school, do well, and enjoy.
By the time the summer of 2010 came around, my Boyfriend-Turned-Husband and I had come to an impasse and amicably released one another from our vows. The summer started with a bang – law school graduation and my birthday on the same weekend! I was on an emotional high not only because of the events that were transpiring, but also because the guy that I had then been dating for a few weeks went out of his way to celebrate my accomplishments with me. This was tempered only slightly by the fact that, during many of my graduation festivities, my mother and father were in the same building together that wasn't a courthouse for the first time in perhaps thirty years. I was able to let go of my anxiety and let adults do as they would and, of course, everything turned out fine. I owe a big thank-you to my mom’s boyfriend for being instrumental in making everything go smoothly, to my family for rising to the occasion and being so proud of me, to Dating Man for generally making me feel special, and to my ex-Boyfriend-Turned-Husband for his support and understanding throughout law school.
As the current summer wears on, I top one emotional hill only to see more hills and valleys undulate infinitely toward the horizon. In my bar exam prep course, an "exceeds standard" mark on a practice essay one day gives way to "needs significant review" feedback on practice multiple choice questions; the next day, they invert themselves. My plans with Dating Man were cancelled one recent evening when his father fell ill; it was to be the last time that his father would fall ill. I struggled with whether I take time away from studying to go the funeral in an unfamiliar town hours away. I discussed the matter with a friend, ran through a cost-benefit analysis, analyzed the ramifications of each decision, made a rational decision not to go, and then went anyhow. It was SO worth it! I saw Dating Man in a new light. I think that we established a new connection, and my presence seemed to fulfill an emotional need in both of us.
As I type this, I feel like I'm in some sort of purgatory. I'm staying in Elon and studying for the bar exam for the entire summer, as if I've embarked on some sort of monastic vocation. To some extent, it hearkens back to Madrid and Beijing -- being unsure of what to do with myself in unfamiliar surroundings and having no one at hand to commandeer as an accomplice. This is the common thread runs through this summer and the three before it.
My ex-Boyfriend-Turned-Husband is caring for my dog and I return to Greensboro each weekend to give him a chance to visit family and friends out of town. I'm enjoying living in my own space during the week and don’t mind spending my weekends in Greensboro, but the transition between the two locales is emotionally draining. During the week, I feel independent and engaged in important self-actualization, but the weekends snap me back into an emotional spot that I didn't realize I was in and couldn't appreciate leaving until I'd gone back to it.
The fall lurks before me and my plans for that time are still unsettled. On the one hand, I look forward to finding a new routine in my own space. On the other hand, my summers have become times of profound feeling and thinking, of growth, and of enrichment. Maybe I should just move to Florida so I can experience summer year-'round!
