In March, I moved back to NZ with the intention of permanence. Obviously, there’s the question of how permanent can things really be at 24. But, at least for the time being, I meant it. After I got there, I vowed to write a new blog post once I “figured things out.” Well, that turned out to be a bit silly. I never did figure things out, and I never did feel settled enough to proudly share an update with others. Although that makes me a bit sad, it’s also the truth. So, I write this from the US, where I’m once again in the process of “figuring things out.” You’d think by now I’d learn it doesn’t quite work like that.

I don’t feel the need (or confidence) to share all the details of the past few months, but rest assured I continued to adventure in beautiful places, enjoy wonderful relationships, learn about the world, and laugh along the way. There was also a lot of anxiety, uncertainty, and chaos in there too though. I guess the balance of all those things just didn’t feel quite right anymore. So, here I find myself trying to envision a new balance. Amidst the job applications, journaling, networking, and endless thinking, I’m (unsurprisingly) finding it difficult to know how to move forward. But, I do know something.

When in doubt, go biking.

There’s just one problem: my helmet. In most cases, bike helmets protect people. But, mine currently does the opposite… because it just doesn’t quite fit right! So instead of enjoying the beautiful Vermont leaves and lovely gravel roads on my bike ride today, I spent the hours swinging my head around, throwing it side to side, and practically concussing myself by testing every possible sudden movement to see if my helmed fit correctly. Result: it didn’t.

My old bike helmet was with me through it all. I bought it in my first few lonely weeks of NZ, before I learned to enjoy biking or the country all that much. It traveled with me on that trans-South Island bike trip that was honestly a lot more difficult than it was fun. It rode with me on the river track when I first fell in love with Wānaka (and the probably 87 times I biked the same track after). It guided me through the beginning of mountain biking and withstood the many times I gently (suddenly) laid (fell) on the ground in the learning process. It helped me make new friends and zoomed with me on my daily commutes into town. It climbed with me up and down the volcanoes of Indonesia and, most importantly, stayed on my head in all of the air conditioned (or super sweaty) convenience stores. It travelled with me away from the Tussock and friends of the South Island to the trees and unknown trails of the North Island. Together we tackled the lonely but beautiful streets along the Congo Nile border of Rwanda, along with the much colder streets of Boston. It even flew to Japan and peeped out of my ski bag once or twice. It saw me through one of the first and (probably) last dates of my relationship. Finally, it ended its days back where it began in NZ where, despite its best effort, it took one too many falls. It fought a valiant final battle through the Southern Alps and (what turned out to be) too icy 4WD roads. My helmet met its end in the Outside Sports trash can that I happened to be in charge of putting on the curb the very next day.

So, as one must do, I moved on. I bought a new helmet with hopes of it being just as good as the old one. I ordered the exact same brand and model in the exact same size and even in the same color. It came, I placed it on my head, and I tried to feel delighted. But, it just didn’t fit quite right. So commenced the games of throwing my head back and forth and fiddling with all the settings to see if that might help. Finally, with a journey back to the US in mind and limited luggage space already filled with two other helmets, I gave up and left it with a friend. 

Back in the US, I recently got a bike–also known as the first step towards joy. But, I didn’t have a helmet. So, with absolutely nothing on the agenda for the day, I drove to get one. There’s a lot of great things about Vermont, but store accessibility is not one of them. After three shops, multiple hours, and no luck finding exactly what I wanted, I ended with what I thought was an adequate choice. And now here we are. The next day, on what should be a beautiful bike ride, I can’t help but think that my helmet sits a bit too low and moves around a bit too much and just doesn’t fit quite right.

I remember when I was in Boston during the winter, I caught up with a few friends and one of them lamented something along the lines of, “why doesn’t anyone tell you your 20s will feel like shit.” And you know what? I thought to myself, wow I’m doing something right because I’m honestly loving my 20s. 

Now, I’m back at home after what has been a wonderful, scary, joyful, and adventurous few years. I’m constantly asking myself and those around me what I should do and where I should live and how to make all these decisions. It sometimes feels like a bit of a failure to be so confused after somehow finding a life that felt so pleasant. And you know what someone told me? “That’s kinda what being in your 20s is all about.” Shoot, maybe they’re right. However superior or prideful I felt in that moment of winter thinking I had defeated the inevitable anxious, confusing, and sometimes sad phase of life… well, look at me now. I guess it comes for all of us, whether in your 20s or 30s or 60s. At least I still know I’m doing something right.

As long as I can’t answer the bigger questions, I’ll worry about my helmet instead. You could presume that I miss my friends or the beautiful mountains or being in love or the feeling of home or the possibility of adventure or constantly running into people in the grocery store weirdly called New World. All of that might be true. But what did I spend the last 2 hours on my bike thinking? I wish my helmet fit. Just like my old one. 

Now a few weeks and many foliage-filled bike rides later, I guess(?) I’m ready to share this with you all. Despite my original intention back in March, I haven’t yet “figured it out.” No surprise there. But, no matter where I am, there are bikes and hills and new Taylor Swift songs to listen to in my right ear bud (shoutout safety). And, today, I purchased clipless pedals and bike shoes to replace yet another sacrifice in the trans-continental moving process. That feels good.

So, the perfect helmet might have to wait, but it will come.

In the meantime, look at these!! wowie

Also, my PT person told me my calves are weak. So I’m working on that.