One day you wake up and it hits you. Like REALLY hits you.
It’s time for change. It’s time to change.
After that initial realization, maybe that feeling fades a little in the days to come. Maybe you push that feeling down to try to keep it from bubbling up. Or maybe you just pretend you never felt it. But maybe, just maybe, you can’t ignore that feeling, that pull, for a single second longer because it begins to consume you and you know without a shadow of a doubt that something has to give. Someone has to take initiative, and that someone has to be you.
About a month ago, I made a big jump. No, I didn’t end up moving abroad (this time around), and no, I didn’t even take off to the opposite side of the states. But I did take that kind of “you have to take a flight there” kind of physical jump that can only be understood by others who have set off for an unknown place without a close companion waiting for them.
If you know me, then I’ve probably kept you on your toes since graduating last May. I spent a large chunk of the year in Europe, learning the value of slow, intentional travel and exploring the world beyond the U.S. bubble. I spent a lot of time striving to make a career decision that was aligned with my passions. I spent a lot of time being grateful for my people and processing all of the change that occurred during my time in school. That sudden gut punch feeling of knowing it was time for change hit me off and on for a few months, but truly took over this summer as autumn rolled around.
And what was meant for me sure did not miss me.
In my first week living in Florida, the beautiful sunshine state, I began working as a writer for a really special nonprofit- an organization called HUG that serves a community of special humans who happen to have disabilities. In my first week of living in Florida, I pushed myself to show up to everything that I could outside of work hours in hopes of connecting with somebody. Lucky me, because a week in, I could confidently say that I met quite a few somebodies. Though building a community and adjusting into a new job never seem to occur instantaneously, an open heart and mind certainly seem to expedite these processes. Fortunately, living in an open-minded and beyond friendly city, and working for an organization that allows me to tangibly create positive change for an underserved community, ALSO expedites these processes.
While I’ve been building a new little world in my corner of the perfectly imperfect city of St. Pete, the greater world has continued spinning. Violence and death have continued to rear their ugly heads on innocents across nations. Grief has knocked on doors in places I couldn’t possibly reach. But the world also offers beacons of hope, and they deserve equal space in our awareness.
Allow me to enlighten you on some recent global happenings that remind me of how the world not only breaks, but also creates and gives and grows:
This September has brought encouraging momentum in the world of travel itself. Across the globe, destinations are reimagining what it means to welcome visitors. Islands in the Maldives and Thailand are expanding coral restoration programs where travelers can take part in reef planting. In Slovenia, “eco-mobility” routes are growing, linking villages with cycling paths and electric buses to reduce car traffic in fragile mountain areas. In Mexico and Peru, community-led tours are channeling tourism dollars directly into preserving local heritage and Indigenous storytelling. Safaris in Kenya and Tanzania are shifting focus toward wildlife corridors and habitat renewal, proving that travel can be not just about seeing the world, but helping restore it.
Beyond travel, science and conservation have offered powerful signs of progress. On September 24th, researchers announced that a gene therapy called AMT-130 has shown evidence of slowing Huntington’s disease, the first time any drug has done so with clinical acceptance, a breakthrough for patients and families who’ve long waited for hope. In Chicago, the river hosted its first organized swim in nearly 100 years, turning what was once a polluted, abandoned waterway into a symbol of reclamation. In South Australia, southern right whales just had a record breeding season, underscoring that when species are given space and care, recovery is possible.
Amongst the heavy good and the heavy bad, the trivial persists as well: television networks have continued to provide us with our weekly anticipated episode of The Summer I Turned Pretty and Dancing with the Stars has returned for another season as a consistent dose of weekly family entertainment amidst it all.
I share all of these events and occurrences not to gloss over the pain. I share them because I believe we should hold both tragedy and hope, complexity and simplicity, in the same frame.
I address all of this contrast not in a controversial way, but rather in the observation that two things, five things, and even five billion things can exist at once. The world can be filled with pain and misery and we have the option to do everything in our power to be an empathetic people. We are allowed to, and should, feel everything deeply. We are allowed to, and should, fight to enjoy life and recognize the brevity of life in the face of both fortune and misfortune. We are allowed to appreciate the small gifts and doses of happiness, while also letting the cloud of the world’s darkness rest above our heads.
While the world has continued to move since I started anew in my St. Pete home, I’ve sought to find a balance of witnessing life’s tragedies and finding all sorts of new beauties. I’ve sought to make the world a slightly more bearable place for those whom I’m capable of lending a hand to, while seeking my own joys. It can all exist at once if you give it permission to.
You can feel deeply. You can reckon with suffering. And you can, even while the world is messy and broken in spots, also notice the small and large miracles happening elsewhere.
I’ve been trying to walk that line: to be present for sorrow, to contribute where I can, and to open myself wide to beauty and joy in this sideline of life I’m building. Both shadows and light can exist in the same world and in the same moment.
Starting again isn’t only about changing zip codes or job titles; it’s about learning to live in the tension that the world models for us every day. While rivers are reclaimed and whales rebound, grief is still cracking homes open on the other side of the globe. While breakthroughs in medicine give families hope, violence and uncertainty still leave others with none. The world never pauses long enough to hand us a clean slate; it keeps spinning, breaking, healing, creating- all at once.
In that way, my move outside of my hometown feels less like an escape and more like an alignment. I’m not immune to the world’s shadows, but I am choosing to seek its light, to build independence, to root into new passions, to show up for a community that grounds me, even while the bigger picture remains complicated.
Underrated is the chance to start again, not as a way to forget the mess, but as a way to step forward into it, carrying both the darkness and the beauty, and choosing to begin anyway.
If you feel stuck, I encourage you to seek hope beyond the mundane and make changes within your grasp. I truly believe that what is meant for you won’t miss you; you just have to allow yourself to hold it all at once.
Sincerely,
SB
