On the way to Culver Academies I was quite positive that I was going to hate the place. The excitement that only three months before had enraptured me was now lost to fear. The dread had swallowed up the thrill and taken its hold on my mind. The sole reason I was taking this bus ride was horses, but at that point I would have gladly given up riding if told I would not have to attend Culver. I did NOT want to be on highway 10 heading north to what had been the focus of my nightmares.
My face told a different story than the sorrow and terror running amuck inside me. It portrayed someone slightly nervous, but a little excited to be going away to a boarding school. My face rarely ever showed what I was truly feeling, and the lips upon it had never uttered what was going on inside. For once it was probably a good thing that I feigned the light attitude and stuck with the happy image because fate was smiling down at me, and it wasn’t faking it.
The few friends and family that accompanied me on the bus ride north dispensed their hugs and kisses, and then departed. I was immediately engulfed by grief and confusion as I attempted to speak with the only other girl in the temporary room. The following week was filled with sobbing, heartache, hysteria, and about $40 worth of phone calls, as I struggled to adjust and cope with my new environment. Eventually I calmed down and emerged from the week, still present at Culver and ready for school to begin.
My life then took a drastic turn one evening a week into school when, online I met what turned out to be my best friend. I became stricken with the initial impression that he was a complete goof ball, but incredibly nice. However, after several hours of fun filled chatter, the conversation became more meaningful in the spiritual sense, and he revealed to me that he was so much more than I had perceived. He opened my eyes and let me in on the secret that he was a truly kind, giving, and amazing person and not just some silly kid from a chat room.
We talked for a long time that night, sharing and communicating in ways I had never hoped to feel, and that most will never experience. He reminded me of the person my mother was proud of, the individual I had once been, and he saddled up my horse to ride down the trail that had so long ago been cut for me.
I have come a long way since then, slowly evolving into so much more than I ever fathomed I could be; discovering, then utilizing talents I had admired others for possessing, and gradually opening up the dams that held back the deep thoughts and feelings within.
Oddly enough, the journey is far from its conclusion. The only reason I have arrived this far along the dense overgrown trail is due to the deep communication and sharing that I have learned to partake in and which has unleashed my inner creativity.
Through the encouragement and gentle guidance of a sensitive being, I have come to learn the art of expressing what I truly feel, but more importantly I have learned the seemingly lost art of Listening.
I believe in communication.
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