Sometimes I want to pick everything up and move across the country. Sometimes I want to drive to each corner, see everything with new eyes, listen to music, read books, hike– agility included, maybe, take photos, sit, think, breathe. Sometimes I want to chop all my hair off, and get bangs (thankfully I haven’t indulged in that just yet… maybe after the wedding). Sometimes I want to dye it pink, or blue. Sometimes I want to take everything I have in savings and fly to Europe.
I think what I crave is change– extreme, mild, depends on the day or the week. The bad part is that sometimes I get that wish granted and suddenly I feel my heels dig in to the ground, and everything halts. Did I say I like change? I don’t really, I take it back. I like how things are, things are comfortable, things are familiar, things are in order, things are how I like them– mostly, anyway. I have this fight with myself quite often. The change I’ve been wishing for is finally coming, I think, maybe with more of a push from the universe than I originally thought possible. It’ll be a bigger one than before, too. (Not about agility this time).
It’s like the world is shoving me closer to the ledge saying, “Get over it. Just do it. Jump.” (A good jump).
Last year after I graduated I didn’t feel like I had a direction to head towards. Mostly because whenever someone asked what exactly you *do* with a writing degree I didn’t have an answer. Teach? Maybe, didn’t really want that, though. Write a novel? Yeah. Someday. Take coffee orders? More likely. I stopped reading books, I stopped writing fiction– it’s been a weird year. I was comfortable where I worked, I was okay with where we lived. Things were passable, they were acceptable, until suddenly they no longer were. I needed something else, I needed that next step to happen– with work, with scenery, with life. I don’t know why it happened, or exactly when, but it was a gradual culmination into a sudden avalanche. Change was no longer a thing I just desired, it became a necessity. That seems to be happening quickly, now. Fingers crossed.
I think what I’ve come to accept is this: life can be easy, life can be comfortable, life can be good enough. But good enough, isn’t really good enough. (Oh my, am I even making sense?) My point is that getting uncomfortable is better. Keeping with the familiar too much means you’re no longer growing, no longer exploring like you can. Life is short, far too short to just stick with what is easy. Life opens up when you take leaps, when you make changes. The ledge is scary, it hurts– but it can be absolutely wonderful, too.
Because maybe you don’t realize it yet, but the ledge will force you to fly.