Today marks the seven-year anniversary of the day I started my photojournalism internship at the St. Joseph News-Press. I suppose I could write for days about moving to St. Joseph, Missouri in a white coat inside a black car, envisioning myself arriving and tossing my hat in the sky like Mary Tyler Moore. The truth is, though, I haven’t been writing enough in the past month and my mojo is off.
Here’s what I will say: packing up my car and driving through the snow from Kentucky to Missouri took all the courage I had at 22 years old. I cried a lot in the internship, both at work and on the phone with my very patient friends. And I made a lot of mistakes. I worried about getting fired every day. But even so, I’m glad I went. Not because—and this is tempting to say—I learned a lot about myself, and not because I know I’m strong enough to handle anything. No. I will not resort to platitudes.
I’m glad I went because at the end of the internship my editor told me he was worried that I would settle for an “easy” life—and that voice in the back of my head has fueled many of my decisions. I’m glad I went because I got my ass kicked often in the job and because I realized that the world was full of possibilities but I was not superwoman—and that has served me well in the long run and prepared me for the realities of adult life (see: David Foster Wallace for a more eloquent depiction). I’m glad I’m glad I went because it was the first time I’d really moved far enough away from home that it was easier to stay where I was and stick it out. And that one decision made each subsequent move easier.
After that, I went back for a second bachelor’s degree. And I did a study abroad in England. I moved to France for eight months and taught in a French middle school. I moved to Georgia to get my master’s degree in creative writing. I’ve taught four college classes (and this semester I’m teaching two more). I went on another study abroad to Greece. I’m planning on moving to New York later this year (which is terrifying). I’ve now been to eight countries besides my own.
I’m not a CEO and my success in work is always tenuous at best (or so it feels). Lots of others have traveled far more than me. But I’m doing what I want, what’s possible for me—because I first moved to St. Joseph, Missouri to take a five-month internship. Sometimes all it takes is that first decision to move outside of your comfort zone.
