I'M ON FIRE.
I'm going to be completely honest. I really didn't expect things to end up this way.
I didn't expect to go seven months (can you believe that?) without getting a normal job with normal obligations with normal benefits with a defined normal structure. I didn't know that I could make it this long without those things. I didn't know what this process was going to look like. I feared what it would feel like (and that's what kept me in it). I couldn't imagine what I wanted it to look or feel like. But, I also didn't have a clear picture of what was actually going on. What the real problems were. What the actual work I was setting out to do was.
Recently, I had to calculate the approximate percentage of the life I have lived and, potentially, hopefully, that number ends up in the 40% range. Give or take. That was unsettling. I've been unpacking that 40% for months now and the highlight reel is brief. I know I've lived it all the best that I knew how, but I know now that I wasn't living well by any definition of that vague term. I do know better now and I'm working to make sure that the work I have been doing is putting me on a trajectory for the last 60-ish% that I'll be proud of and happy about.
I avoid talking to people about the nitty gritty details of my current situation that might make them uncomfortable, and in turn, myself. I don't know how to explain the rearrangement of my priorities and readjustment of my value system. With all of the unknowns in my life, the one I'm most sure of is, for those people, they probably won't ever understand my decision-making go forward and I have to accept that. I have to be comfortable with other people being uncomfortable. Somehow I've managed to survive the last seven months with this new set of priorities and values and as soon as I feel like this is all going to come to a defeating halt, a shift occurs and I'm able to keep going. That has brought me significant comfort.
When I think back to six months ago, I feel like I was surrounded by small fires in every direction. They varied in severity and I tried to put them all out at once. It doesn't work like that. As soon as I thought one was out, there was just enough still burning under the surface to reignite it when I wasn't paying attention. I got it under control and slowly started putting them out one-by-one. Now, I've found myself in this clearing that's charred and still smells of smoke, but I can breathe again at least and I can see beyond it all for the first time in a long time and maybe even ever. I'm not sure. Yet.
I find myself just trying to repair the damage just enough to be able to walk away completely and know that it will regrow eventually. But, I'm drawn to go somewhere new entirely. I don't want to replant and wait for roots to attach in this spot again. It's just not where I want to be anymore-- I need a change of scenery and, it turns out, I don't need all this space to live like I want to. A clean slate. A fresh start.
The proverbial They don't understand that and truthfully They never will, but They also don't understand how the fires got started in the first place. Or that all it takes is a match and this whole place will re-ignite and I just don't want to take that risk anymore. They might think I've given up. And, maybe I have, but not in defeat the way They might see it. They have good intentions and They just want me to be happy, but They'll probably never understand that what makes Them happy is so far removed from the things that I have found that make me happy. And, like I said, happiness looks a lot different than I thought it was supposed to. I think the best way to define it for myself now is the ease of survival. Being ok with a small, slow-burning fire that's going just enough to keep me feeling alive. I'm staying alive.
The worst is over.
I didn't expect to go seven months (can you believe that?) without getting a normal job with normal obligations with normal benefits with a defined normal structure. I didn't know that I could make it this long without those things. I didn't know what this process was going to look like. I feared what it would feel like (and that's what kept me in it). I couldn't imagine what I wanted it to look or feel like. But, I also didn't have a clear picture of what was actually going on. What the real problems were. What the actual work I was setting out to do was.
Recently, I had to calculate the approximate percentage of the life I have lived and, potentially, hopefully, that number ends up in the 40% range. Give or take. That was unsettling. I've been unpacking that 40% for months now and the highlight reel is brief. I know I've lived it all the best that I knew how, but I know now that I wasn't living well by any definition of that vague term. I do know better now and I'm working to make sure that the work I have been doing is putting me on a trajectory for the last 60-ish% that I'll be proud of and happy about.
I avoid talking to people about the nitty gritty details of my current situation that might make them uncomfortable, and in turn, myself. I don't know how to explain the rearrangement of my priorities and readjustment of my value system. With all of the unknowns in my life, the one I'm most sure of is, for those people, they probably won't ever understand my decision-making go forward and I have to accept that. I have to be comfortable with other people being uncomfortable. Somehow I've managed to survive the last seven months with this new set of priorities and values and as soon as I feel like this is all going to come to a defeating halt, a shift occurs and I'm able to keep going. That has brought me significant comfort.
When I think back to six months ago, I feel like I was surrounded by small fires in every direction. They varied in severity and I tried to put them all out at once. It doesn't work like that. As soon as I thought one was out, there was just enough still burning under the surface to reignite it when I wasn't paying attention. I got it under control and slowly started putting them out one-by-one. Now, I've found myself in this clearing that's charred and still smells of smoke, but I can breathe again at least and I can see beyond it all for the first time in a long time and maybe even ever. I'm not sure. Yet.
I find myself just trying to repair the damage just enough to be able to walk away completely and know that it will regrow eventually. But, I'm drawn to go somewhere new entirely. I don't want to replant and wait for roots to attach in this spot again. It's just not where I want to be anymore-- I need a change of scenery and, it turns out, I don't need all this space to live like I want to. A clean slate. A fresh start.
The proverbial They don't understand that and truthfully They never will, but They also don't understand how the fires got started in the first place. Or that all it takes is a match and this whole place will re-ignite and I just don't want to take that risk anymore. They might think I've given up. And, maybe I have, but not in defeat the way They might see it. They have good intentions and They just want me to be happy, but They'll probably never understand that what makes Them happy is so far removed from the things that I have found that make me happy. And, like I said, happiness looks a lot different than I thought it was supposed to. I think the best way to define it for myself now is the ease of survival. Being ok with a small, slow-burning fire that's going just enough to keep me feeling alive. I'm staying alive.
The worst is over.
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