I’ve always loved the saying “With great risk comes great reward,” because I fully believe it to be true. You’ve got to make sacrifices to live the life you want, to get the life you want, or to keep the life you want. These sacrifices don’t have to be huge or life-altering, but they do have to prove to the universe that you’re willing to give up a few things for even greater things.
In late June, I was offered an incredible position at Vanderbilt University, a position that I wanted, and a position I knew I couldn’t turn down. I’d had my eyes on living in Nashville for about three years. The music, the food, the people, all of those characteristics made me fall in love with the city. Well, that and the fact that it has this small-town vibe, something I am very much used to, and something that I will always love about any city.
Saying goodbye to Texas was hard. Texas is home, always will be. I think the hardest part was saying goodbye to my family, especially listening to my dad continue to tell my dog farewell to avoid actually telling me goodbye. Watching him wait for my Jeep to clear his line of vision made me extremely emotional, a lot more emotional than I thought I would get. As I sat at the STOP sign down the road from my childhood home, I couldn’t help but think of my mom and what her reaction and opinion on all of this would be. My mom was an avid believer in stepping out of your comfort zone and taking risks in life, because after all, you only live once. Yesterday marked four years since telling her goodbye, and the void of missing her is still very prominent. It will probably be that way forever. It’s a hard thing to accept, but necessary nonetheless.
I hope that my journey in Nashville will be good to me, and I’m ready for it. I know that I have an incredible support system in my friends and family, and especially from up above. Had I not taken this leap of faith, I know I would’ve continued to think “what if?” for the rest of my life, and I absolutely could not take that chance.
Because in the end, the only chances you regret are the chances you never took.
My last Texas sunrise for a while.
This was about 12 hours of driving in, and at this point, my dogs and Loki (my cat) were getting so antsy to get out of the Jeep.
No bed just yet (air mattresses are actually pretty comfortable), but my babies and my mama’s Bible are all I need to feel at home.