Sometimes, unforeseen circumstances can throw a wrench in what you thought was a sensible plan. Sometimes, you duck.
It’s no secret that I miss home. But it isn’t easy to base life decisions on a life you no longer live and in a place you haven’t visited in over a year. I am beginning to realize that I have not experienced a non-temporary way of thinking in a very, very long time. Definitely never as an “adult.” All of my thought processes have always been rooted in temporality. It has always been “I won’t be here for very long, so I shouldn’t get attached to x, y, or z.” Algebraically fill those in with people, places, and things. Mainly… people.
Everything in life is temporary. Thank you, Buddha. I know this, I understand this, but I have mentally, outwardly, applied it to mainly the idea of thoughts and emotions. I have applied it to those little bumps in the road. Small inconveniences. I never realized how much I unconsciously apply it to my entire life. It’s always just been getting through one thing before moving onto the next. I have never been truly settled. I have always had the intention of leaving wherever I am.
This, of course, creates its own problems in terms of forming legitimate attachments to anyone or anything besides people I have known for years already who have proven themselves to be permanent fixtures in my life. People who I know will always be there. When I was in university, the only thing getting me through it was knowing that I was not going to be a student under stress forever. The only thing getting me through the ideology of the town in which I lived was knowing that I would be leaving soon enough. The only thing getting me through my waitressing job was knowing that I wouldn’t be taking people’s shit and arguing with guys in the kitchen forever.
I don’t know if this is how most adults function; I guess I have just never had the desire to stay put. It’s always onto the next thing before I can get too comfortable. I always have a plan, and those plans function as my reassurance and motivation to keep on moving. I am a risk-taker but only to the extent that I am always the one in control of my own emotions and life, and that no one else has the real ability to impact the way that I feel… or to hurt me. If something goes wrong, if I get hurt, I deal with the immediate fallout and then accept that my next plan is set into action a little bit earlier than anticipated.
But at what point in time do I stop? Will I ever settle down and accept that whatever it is is going to be my life? At what point do I say, “the life that I am living is enough.” I am beginning to fear that I might not ever feel that way – that I will always have that next step already planned out.
I know what some of you might be thinking. If you’re always worried about the future, how can you enjoy the present? Well, in many ways, this sense of temporality allows me to enjoy the moment more because I know that it is, in fact, temporary. I won’t be here forever, so I shouldn’t stress. That’s how I have always seen and understood things, so the idea of permanence and complacency freaks me the hell out.
Complacency to me means to stop moving forward and to stop exploring. To stop being curious and to stop wanting more out of life. It’s strange to me to see so many people my age who have settled into their lives already: engaged, married, living together. Am I just immature to want to keep on moving? I have always dreamed of those things, but I have both given up on those dreams out of, well, fear, and also just as a result of wanting to do a lot more before I can commit to being “settled.” I already know what I’m running from in some aspects, and maybe I just haven’t found “my place” just yet. Maybe I just haven’t found what I’m looking for.
All I know right now is that I am sure as hell ready to gain some clarity.
Anyway, thank you for reading to yet another ramble.
Until next time,