It's amazing how busyness and stress and work makes us sacrifice the things that bring us the most joy. Maybe you don't do this-- but I do. I love writing; I always have. I love reading and I love long walks and I love writing letters to my friends. But I get busy. I work late, and the drive is long and although I do have some time left-- I'm tired, and it's just easier to watch Netflix for an hour than try to remember where I had left off in the book I started reading months ago. The things I love the most do take time and energy, but they are part of me, they define me, and they exercise my mind. Why do I so quickly replace them with mundane activities that simply allow me to shut down my mind? When did I become so lazy.
I've been in a rut before. After I left my semester in college, I came home and didn't have a plan. I got a job in a restaurant and worked about four days a week, maybe 20 hours total. I drove my family's car (ehem... 15-seater van) to work and then drove home. Time that wasn't at work was spent reclined on the couch, my computer on my lap and the TV on. I didn't have many friends in town; most people my age were away at school and the others I was closest too had children to fill up their days. I had a couch and Facebook and whatever mindless show was on at that time. Remembering these days makes my skin crawl. I feel gross, like I need to shower to get these memories off of me. Thankfully this time didn't last long. I got a second job and then a third for a short time. Then I was offered the chance to nanny a sweet, darling little girl and that pulled me right out of even the shallow rut I was still in. There was such purpose again. I got to spend my day loving a child and seeing her grow and learn and explore and helping her along the way. Sometime later I found myself on a new adventure for three months in the Philippines; another experience that altered my life and the way I look at each day. Upon my return, my mind was made up about something. I worked for a couple more months, saved my money, packed my bags and moved to Chicago. There I learned how to take care of myself, I learned to live alone, I got to exist in the same 5 mile radius as my best friend of (now) 17 years, and I discovered the joy of not owning a television. If the time after college was a rut, I was now on top of tall, beautiful, sunny hill (that was sometimes covered in snow). That dream lasted about two years and then I sort of skipped down a road of mini-adventures and spent the next 6 months in Fort Worth with my brand new niece, in Oregon taking care of my late uncle's house, and then a little further down the road in Australia with my cousins. I guess you could say, I got out of that rut.
I didn't do all of those things based on being in a rut, but if you zoom back far enough and look at the timeline bullet points, it sure seems that I was at least motivated not to find myself on the couch holding the clicker again anytime soon. I love my stories and the adventures I've been blessed with, and there isn't a path I've walked down that I regret. Though my globe trotting has come to stop, for now anyway, I am okay and happy because I haven't found myself in another rut. Well, at least not one like before.
I have a great job; one that I didn't anticipate being good at, and yet I have found myself quite at home in this position. I have a great car (that I loooove) and a fantastic group of friends who make me smile and laugh and feel accepted every day. I have goals that I am meeting and new dreams that I am chasing-- at a reasonable pace. There are a few boxes not checked right now, but they're in the works and I'm not worried. I have a lot going on and my life is full, but I sometimes feel like I am in a different sort of rut. In this rut, I slowly let go of the things that once gave me pure enjoyment for the things that pass the time. Down here I'm still proud of myself and where I am, but I don't feel as interested in my life as I used to. Sure, at least when I tell people about my job and how I'm living a "normal" adult life I don't get the looks I used to when I told people about the next adventure I was taking. A job is great and having one that you can count on for years is something I never chased and yet am so thankful for. But it's the outside of work time I'm not proud of; it's my free time that I need to take back. I don't want to be known simply for my job because that isn't who I am. I need to think more and read more and write more. Last time I was in a rut I got off the couch and traveled the world. It's time to see how I'll get out of this one.
