Gosh, there's been so much on my heart lately and I know the keys on this keyboard are going to fly faster than I can even gather my thoughts. I imagine the overarching theme of this post will be in the form of a question...
How do you kick the incessant, nagging feeling that you're wandering about this Earth... unsettled, restless, and without a trace of clear direction?Two years of life. Lots of changes, some of them really big. Lots of things to be proud of. Lots of love and family and friends. But there is a lot of confusion, too. A lot of questions and unknowns.
It's been 16 months since I completed my undergrad and 14 months since we got the keys to our first home. I've received two promotions at work in the last 19 months. We've purchased furniture, refinished 1940's hardwood floors, painted rooms, planted flowers, bought a riding lawn mower, dreamt up patio plans and priced out a few home renovations. I read a novel for leisure for the first time in probably 5 years. I made my own candles, made some do-it-yourself decorations for the house, really honed in on my crafting spirit and channeled my inner Pinterest-aholic. Most recently, I started working on plans to convert our 2nd spare bedroom into a space just for me.
And if there's one thing I've really come to terms with through all of this...it's that money is the ultimate limiting factor in life. (I don't mean to alarm you, but it's something you should know.)
There are so many things I want to do. I want to travel more. I want to continue making this house a home. I want to spend more time with nature. And I want to keep learning. I thought I was so done with school, but my soul is aching for more. I want to take more business classes. I want to get Six Sigma certified. I want to continue expanding my mind and opening up opportunities for my future.
Future.
Future.
Future.
That word is so heavy. The future is a scary place. And I'm conflicted with how I feel about it. Some days I feel armed to tackle anything life might throw at me. Some days I feel like I'm doing great, taking the right steps, thinking smart, taking precautions and thoroughly weighing options. Other days, I feel like the future hangs over my head like one of those dark clouds in a pharmaceutical-funded anti-depressant commercial. I could be doing better. What will I do if this happens...or that? Is this really how I should be spending my time? Am I actually going to be the person I want to be in 5 years? 10? Will I even have the same values by then? Oh, the pressure.
I'm sure this is totally normal. Like, that's just a part of life, right? Take the good with the bad. Stress out, then relax...and do it again.
But it feels like more than that lately. There's this dense fog that seems to cloud around everything I do. It swoops in when I go to the store to buy groceries and hovers over my cart like a hawk stalking its prey. It fills all the corners and coats all the ceilings in my house. It repeatedly crashes across the flickering TV screen like waves hitting a beach. It condensates on my windshield as I drive to work each morning. It flattens itself and mimics my favorite blanket, adhering to the curves of my body as I try to go to sleep. It attaches itself to my every move, talks over me in my head (totally rude) and builds a barrier between me and the me I want to be.
I have so much focus on the future. Goals. Dreams. Visions. Fears.
But because of this, I feel that I'm missing out on today. Here. Now.
And I'm just now realizing it.
I'm not content. So much so that I'm throwing myself at different things...hobbies, projects, ideas. I'm so desperately trying to find the path that leads to my passion, my true calling. And in this chaotic search, I'm forgetting to soak in the good that my life already has to offer. I've been in this house for over a year and I don't feel connected to it. Sure, I'm relaxed here. I'm comfortable. But I feel as though I'm just passing through. We talk about making improvements and selling this house so often, that I think I've just written it off and forced myself not to get attached. And what I'm realizing now, is that I'm furiously searching for connection to my life, my current one. Like a puppy staring into a mirror, scratching wildly with both paws at the puppy on the other side - begging for its attention.
The other night, I sat in a room we seldom use in this house. The one with the refinished floors and oversized, loungy couch. The one with the gray walls I absolutely adore. I sat there for about two hours. The house was completely dark except for the lamp on the end table, which gave off the warmest, most relaxing glow that draped over those beautiful gray walls. The dog was snoozing on one side of the couch, her tail sprawled across my ankles as I sat there, staring at the glowing walls. My eyes flickered from the floors, to the coat closet, to the decorative lantern in the corner. I analyzed the painting of the Peony on the wall and second-guessed my placement of the candle holders on the floor.
And this whole time, in the back of my mind, I was thinking how much I wanted to just love this house. And thinking how easily I could. And that I want to spend more time sitting in this room, just because. And I thought of a few more things we could do in here, some DIY projects came to mind and I started planning them out in my head. I thought about how I wished I had more time to spend here, in this house, living my life and connecting with myself. I thought for the millionth time about how I work terrible hours, starting late and getting out late, and how it ruins my whole day.
Then I started thinking about how I make a lot of plans, fill our weekends with to-do lists and social events. I make a point to be there for friends' birthdays and family get-togethers. And Anthony is the same way. Our "free time" is often committed a month and a half in advance to something or someone. I have and always will consider those commitments important. They serve our ability to stay connected to friends and family. Allow us to be there for special moments, milestones, celebrations and surprises. They provide us with stories and memories that we cherish and wouldn't trade for the world.
I need that. I need my friends. I need my family. I need that connection, the comfort of being around people who know you...the ease of conversation. It's great to escape the day-to-day and live in someone else's world while they tell you a funny story from last week or their big plans for an upcoming trip. These moments bring us closer together, give us the ability to understand each other a little more and teach us how to be there for each other when we need it most.
I feel more connected than ever to the people in my life. I love it, and I don't ever want it to change.
But I'm deeply missing that connection with myself. I know that I'm missing something. Purpose, I think. Perhaps I'm lacking purpose in my life.
I've had purpose before. For a very, very long time...my goal was to complete my degree. And the things I did were purposely selected to help me achieve that goal. I landed my first position with the company I still work for today, so that I could make money and afford classes. And I scheduled classes around work, and traded schedules with coworkers in order to take the classes I needed. I fought with the administration at two universities in order to complete my goal in a non-traditional capacity. I discovered and utilized my company's tuition reimbursement program to take classes without incurring additional student debt. It was hard, but it was my focal point - my purpose.
When I first took my job, it was a means to an end. It started off terrible. I had no orientation, I got thrown into an office at the end of the hall with the locked union-staff personnel file cabinets. And someone made me a sign for my door..which read "Shelby Jackson and File Room." My boss wasn't even in town when they interviewed and hired me. Someone else handled it while he was on vacation, and when he returned, there I was. And he didn't even know what to do with me. He gave me reading material that made absolutely no sense to me, and left me to my devices for almost two weeks before I really began to learn anything. Those file cabinets bore witness to some lonely and lost tears those first few months. I stayed because I needed a job. I needed a job to finish school and make good on promises I made to my family. And so, I stayed.
But in time, I sought out opportunity there. I latched on to every piece of information I could find. And closing in on my last semester of school, all the fighting and clawing behind me, my focus switched gears. I had a career plan. I was going to learn and keep learning. And when I got my degree, I'd see if it would help me advance. And then I got a promotion and then another. I was focused on learning and growing as much as I could. In a steadily downward-sloping industry (newspaper publishing), everyone fears for their job. You just never know what's around the corner...cost cutting...reorganizations...downsizing. But I was determined to make myself indispensable. I kept expanding my reach, asking questions, lending a hand, joining committees, meeting new people. I had purpose, then. I vowed to myself that no matter what, if I got fired or if I left on my own accord or if I stayed another 5 years...I would know that I got the most out of my time here and would have something to show for it. Several promotions later, I'm still here. I'm in a great position earning a competitive wage. And now I'm the one doing the training. And I'll never stick anyone in an end office with the file cabinets and let them cry.
Also during this time, nearing the end of my degree requirements, I wanted to buy a house. I had been saving money for some time, but I really started focusing on saving as much as I could. I doubled down. I needed a down payment. And after graduation...after I had the money, I started searching. And that process went so fast. The first offer we made was accepted within two hours and the rest was history. We moved in shortly after and poured ourselves into painting and renovating and decorating and buying furniture. We were proud, so proud. I had purpose then.
But things have trailed off. We still have projects we are working on in the house. We still have plans for next season, next paycheck, next weekend. I think I'm reaching the max of what I can grow into at work, but I'm still working to define my management style. I'm still learning my techniques. But it's a slow process. One that only time and experience will help me with.
So what now? Where to next? I think that's where I'm struggling. I guess I thought I'd just be able to enjoy life, after all that. Got the degree, got the house, got the promotions. But I'm lost. I'm not connected to me. I've tried new things and generally enjoyed them all. I have craft drawers full of supplies. I have an entire box of novels to read. I have a backyard with trees and squirrels and bunnies that I could sit and relax in. I have that lovely room with the gray walls. I have everything I was working so hard for. Yet, I've never felt more empty or directionless.
I signed up for a six-week photography class in my community. Taking photos makes me happy, maybe if I learn and practice enough, I could make it a side-gig. Perhaps it could become something more than that some day. I started a furniture painting project for my new room. I really enjoy the crafting and the reading. But I don't have a great place in the house to do those things. That room with the gray walls is central to the noise in the house and the TV in the other room. I need a space that is just mine, where I can curl up and read or write more to clear my head. A spot with a desk for my laptop or my next DIY project. I want to love this house, and I want to love the life I live within its walls.
I need to make a conscious effort to be present today. Because the future is only a dream, a vision. It's always ahead of you - days, weeks, years away. And the only way to arrive at the future of your dreams, is to start living it - today.
I have many ideas floating around in my head about what my future should look like. I have yet to decide which path to follow. But while I'm still weighing the options, I'd really like to enjoy where I'm at. Focus on the current me. Figure out what makes current me whole. Maybe once I figure that out, the fog will thin and slip through the space under the front door. Perhaps it will journey through the trees, winding and twisting, picking up speed. Perhaps it will flip and twirl, and gently graze the faces of children playing outside, causing their hair to dance and their eyes to turn to the sky. Perhaps that dense fog turned cool, crisp breeze will finally enjoy its own freedom, riding the waves and carving the sides of mountains as it finds it's own path into the future.
Future.
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