Comparison is the thief of joy.
I felt it stealing from me. At the start of this experience, Spoleto was shiny and interesting. The view, ordering coffee, the long walks to class. The town, the shops, and their trinkets, the different languages, the food. I couldn’t be in my head because I was overwhelmed with new experiences, trying to take everything in, and not waste a second. The more comfortable I get, the more doubts enter my head.
Am I good enough? Do they like me? Anxiety takes control. It convinces me there are subtleties in conversation I am missing. I search for double meanings in words, reading into body language and eye contact like it can uncover how they “really” feel about me. I toss and turn at night, replaying conversations and wishing I said something different, something that would have made me seem more funny or interesting. The voices whisper in my ear. They hate you. Nobody wants you here. You should leave. Stay home.
I stood at the beach in Sperlonga, Italy, and inhaled. The chatter in my head went quiet.
We went to the most perfect beach I had ever seen. It looked fake. The water was the color of blue Gatorade, and the sand was soft to the touch, with not one cloud in the sky. There was no trash on the shore, no broken bottles to dodge as I walked to the chairs by the water. Once we made it safely to the chairs, I took off my glasses.
Everything looked different. A little softer. It was nice. I set off on a mission to hunt for shells. On the shore, I walked until I saw a clump of orange. I grabbed it and brought it towards my face to inspect, eagerly awaiting to feast my eyes upon a massive shell. It turned out to be a big orange rock, smooth on the top, with cracks along the bottom. I tossed it out into the water and continued my search. This time, I saw a smaller flash of orange and tried again. I brought it to my eyes. It was an orange shell, vibrant and perfectly unblemished and symmetrical.
Everyone was talking around me about how clear the water was, how they could see for miles into the horizon trying to catch the fish swimming around us with their bare hands. They went underwater and could see everything.
I float on my back and submerge my head in the water, letting the salt sting my eyes. Everything in the distance for me didn’t exist. The rest of the world fell away, into a fuzzy, soft kaleidoscope of colors.
Instead of being everywhere, I could only be where my feet were.
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