Finding My Light: A Journey to Peace and Purpose in Croatia
Reading time: 4 minutes
Written by: Annmarie Borosic
I’m seaside again working on a Split Guide, the Adriatic, barely a few meters from me. I’m looking out towards the island of Solta directly ahead of me and old Town Split to the left framed by the Biokovo mountains. It’s November, I’m in a light jacket barely needed against the warmth of the sun. The Adriatic glistens in its calm, pure vastness as I sip my coffee.
I don’t know if I’m still in a state of shock, or simply disbelief, but I cannot believe this is my life. When and how did this happen? You know when there’s something you’ve wanted for a long time and then you’re somehow living it? I don’t think in the last 6 months I’ve truly sat here to just be, be in my reality.
I’m unsure of how I got here. It’s overwhelming. This new life I’m creating; going for the things that truly bring me calm and joy. I’m making new friends, and building my own little community in a new part of the world that is now home.
My therapist, who has been guiding me through these past few months, said something yesterday that stuck with me, “You look really happy now. When we first met, you had a lot going on and were sad.” Imagine being sad in a place you’ve been waiting for. So much has happened. Little by little, I’m shedding the things that no longer serve me. I’m learning to breathe and just be. I’m understanding that I can trust myself and know what I’m doing. I am where I am today because I’ve survived my past. I’ve come out on the other side of my decisions, and I know now with certainty, I always figure it out and am a survivor. I can rely on myself and starting over and over and over again isn’t starting from scratch, but simply a new starting point of all previous experiences.
My life is what I make it. What I want of it. Adaptation, new experiences, new relationships, rich tradition. My conversations sound different. Weekends look different. Mornings are freeing. I find myself sitting under lemon trees as I sip coffee on some days; I walk by pomegranate trees that allow me to just pluck a piece of fresh fruit. I’m gazing at bougainvillea trees in every corner; flowers that I have paid to produce as backdrop imagery in my previous life; faux flowers I’ve paid to have shipped to me simply to adorn my apartment and give me a piece of a life I longed for.
Today, I’m here. I’m in that life I craved for all of those years. Living calmly, and peacefully, listening to stories of weekend hikes through local islands, nearby mountains, and family gatherings in local villages to help pick olives in preparation for olive oil-making. I grew up Croatian. My family made sausages every winter. I danced folklore for 13 years. I grew up learning about Croatian heritage, the history, but now living in it. Truly living in it. Living life just as others lived in many stories they’d share is something different. This isn’t summering in Croatia, this is every day. It’s in the daily stroll through walls over 1800 years old; sauntering seaside on a promenade from 300 AD. It’s being surrounded by prideful people, newly created and chosen family, learning and building a new community of a life that feels more purposeful. More intentional. The little moments are packed with more than I could have ever imagined.
“Every storm eventually runs out of rain,” by Maya Angelou. I now live in a location with more than 300 days of sunshine per year. I’ve found my light. ”
I’ve always said I would do it. I wanted this. Then it happened. Now, with my citizenship in process, I’m where I wished I would be 15 years ago. I prove to myself time and time again that whatever you want is possible. It may come with some challenges, devastation, and sacrifice, but would we ever appreciate the beauty if there was no darkness to compare it to?
There is a quote that I had taped to my laptop for a few years, “Every storm eventually runs out of rain,” by Maya Angelou. I now live in a location with more than 300 days of sunshine per year. I’ve found my light. I write this as a reminder to myself and maybe to you reading this, it is possible. When you thought things would never be ok, you come to learn the life you’ve longed for has come to find you.
