Stagnancy has never fit me well. Some people have grown up planning their dream weddings in the same way I’ve planned my next travels, my next moves. Being someone who is both flighty and eager to commit has been a bit challenging to navigate, but also to explain.
It feels selfish at times, to want both a life of roaming and stability. What does that even look like on a woman? I reflect on those whom I admire most: the Gloria Steinems and Elizabeth Gilberts of the world. The ones who have rich lives filled with wander in the unconventional pursuit of truth. Can I want that and want commitment, or will I always have to sacrifice some part of myself? Will I ever reach a point of sameness that doesn’t cage me inside, or am I just a creature of flux?
You could say that the battle between freedom and security has been an apparent theme for the majority of my life. Most of the novels I write are attempts at solving this code. As if there is some secret manual I have yet to unravel. I can’t say I’ve figured it out, but I have come to realize that I must not be the only person who feels this way.
Lately, I’ve been better able to highlight my ego when it speaks to me, noticing how often I resist myself as I learn to distinguish the voices in my own head. Having craved change for so long, I feel more heard than ever before. I screamed for it and then all that I knew, all that was once so familiar, was taken away in an instant.
It’s arrived, the change I’ve wanted, but I didn’t want it to look like this. I wanted it to present itself the way I had planned, the way I mapped out so clearly in my head. How is it that we can get exactly what we’ve been asking for and still be unsatisfied?
Day after day, I’ve held this desire to catch a break, to just have some time to collect myself and to figure out intentionally, what my next move is. Did I want to quit my job, leave my apartment, move back to the East coast, and leave behind everything I’ve worked so hard for? Technically, yes – but not like this. Not without a plan. Not without some security to fall back on. And yet, this is how it had to be done.
Sometimes, things close in on you so much that you are pushed towards the direction you’ve been craving and resisting. I’ve been working to dissect it all – the urge to start over and simultaneous fear of it. I suppose starting over is coated with both freedom and debilitation. You can do anything you want in this new space, but you also have to start from scratch, again.
To fear what is not known seems productive and yet it is a complete waste of time. What I hope to be able to say after all this is that it was worth choosing myself for once. It was worth leaving toxic environments and people to create space for me. It was worth allowing the voice that’s been telling me “not this” to lead the way, even if the direction wasn’t so clear. To be honest, I don’t know if that will be the case, but I have to believe it will, anyways.