anxiety.

This morning I had an 11 minute phone call with my mother that instantly raised my blood pressure and frayed my nerves. This was not my mother's fault. (entirely.) My mom is a planner. Her mind is constantly moving about 10 paces ahead of everyone else. She'll call me three weeks before an event to see what time I am going to get there or what outfit I am going to wear. Meanwhile, I get anxiety over planning something a week ahead. (Can you say commitment issues?) Not to mention the fact that being rushed is quite possibly the worst feeling in the world to me, so being rushed weeks ahead of something is traumatizing for a gal like me.

Anyways, this conversation and anxiety this morning was self inflicted because I called her to discuss important matters such as my big move next month to Washington D.C. for grad school. Instantly I felt my stomach do a little flip-flop that it must have learned while watching the Women's Gymnastics Olympic trials last week. And then on the eleventh minute and probably eleventh different question, I had enough. I do this thing where my body starts to tremble, I shake my head, and I use vague statements such as, "Ok it'll be fine," or "No problem, we can just figure it out later," and then immediately declare that I'm busy and have to get off the phone. Maybe I was an escape artist in a previous life? Anything's possible.

When I get these acrobatic stomach feelings though, I immediately dive into a deep nostalgic state. This time, I am nostalgic for my semester abroad in London during my junior year of college. I still look back on those three and half months as the happiest time of my life thus far. I don't think I've ever laughed as hard, smiled as big, or gawked as loud at the beautiful sights. Life was simple. I was disconnected from the rest of the world (minus Skype, Twitter, Facebook, and e-mail), and I indulged in utter, complete selfishness for probably the first time of my life. I spent a lot of time alone riding the Tube or sipping coffee before class in Starbucks. This allowed me to grow comfortably with my own thoughts and emotions.

(In the London Eye checking out my main man, Mr. Ben.)

In London I took risks. I branched out and made new friends. I drank Guinness. (woof.) I lived with a new family. I tasted new food. I conquered public transportation. I never cried. (You see, before I left, I made a personal No Crying in London Rule. I knew these months were precious, so why spend them sad?) I was mugged. I missed my family and friends. I tried new styles. I lived on a budget. I felt complete.

(Swoon central.)

Days before I left for London I was in an utter panic-stricken state. Change scares the hell out of me. (Hence this morning's minor freak out.) It was just then that God sent this angel of man to comfort me in a grocery store, nonetheless. He was a sweet elderly man who smiled with eyes as he asked my friends and I if we were in college. He then proceeded to ask about our courses which is when I shared that I'd be leaving to study in London in a few short days. That grin widened across his whole face as he mind traveled back to a time that he was there many years ago. He sighed and said, "Do everything you can there. Just literally step outside and walk. For miles and miles--just walk and take it all in. You will love it. If you don't love London, then you'll hate heaven." This was 100% exactly what I needed to hear, and I often replayed his words over and over again in mind during my semester there. And of course, London lived up to the heavenly category he placed it in.

(Taking one last spin around the city before we headed back to our homeland.)

So today, I'll sit and daydream about London. I'll remember the friends, the pubs, the entire experience. Maybe I'll even shed a tear or two, because after all I'm not actually IN London, so I'm allowed. But, today, I'll also pray for another angel. Another person to come along and ease my fears and anxieties for my future.

Here's to memories--to remembering them, and to making them.