What I wanted.

I’ve always known exactly what I wanted.

Correction: for as long as I can remember, I’ve always known exactly what I ultimately wanted. I’ve always had a clear idea of what I wanted the big picture to eventually look like.

However, when it came to the short-term or the here-and-now, I have always been extremely indecisive.

This is how my mind has operated for as long as I can remember. And I’ve always kind of liked it that way. In fact, I have always believed those contrasting viewpoints helped to balance me out.

And then…everything changed. Poof!

My big picture is nothing but a memory. My visualization has vanished.

I know exactly what I want to do today, but if you asked me where I saw myself in 5 years, I would answer you with a blank expression.

I found the above post in my draft folder, dated July 7th. Fast forward three months and it seems as if I still feel exactly as I felt when I first sketched out these words.

When did I decide it would be okay…

…to just give up on my dreams?

And why?

Because of fear? Or failure?

When did I decide that it would be okay to just settle?

The mere thought of settling used to send a shudder throughout my entire body.

When did my passions start to disappear? Or – worse – when did my passions become suffocated by things I never wanted in the first place? They haven’t disappeared exactly, but they are just as good as ignored.

And most importantly – what can I do to find myself again?

Actually, I take that back. I know the answer. I’m just too afraid to face it directly.

How did someone who was once totally defined by curiosity and an adventurous love for life become trapped and burdened with fear and unhappiness?

I need to stop being practical. I need to stop playing it safe. And I really need to stop being afraid. None of those traits will help me achieve my dreams and conquer my goals. I need to remind myself of how rewarding it can be to take risks that force me outside of my comfort zone.

I randomly stumbled across the above thoughts in an old journal of mine that I accidentally tossed to the side in the midst of my move away from Boston. I don’t necessarily feel exactly as I felt when I originally wrote these words, but a part of me definitely identifies with the overall concept so I thought I’d go ahead and share it here.

Going backwards to move fowards…

Today is my last day of employment for an indefinite amount of time.

And I’m about to do a couple things I thought (and repeatedly said) I would never do:

I’m moving back in with my parents.

I’m trying to get a job in Washington, DC.

W-a-i-t, I find myself thinking…is this really me?

It’s all happening, but I still can’t really believe it. Don’t get me wrong: I know this is what I want to do. And I know this is a change for the better. I just can’t really process it all quite yet. And I feel like I’m moving in reverse.

For as long as I can remember I have been very future-oriented, very direction-minded, very plan-focused. And this was never part of the plan.

But here I am. Here I am going backwards (figuratively as well as literally) in hopes that it will help to propel me forwards.

And I know it doesn’t seem this way, but I am starting to come to terms with the situation.

Quitting means not giving up, but moving on. Changing direction not because something doesn’t agree with you, but because you don’t agree with something. It’s not a complaint, in other words, but a positive choice, and not a stop in one’s journey, but a step in a better direction. Quitting- whether a job or a habit- means taking a turn so as to be sure you’re still moving in the direction of your dreams.

Manipulating my dreams

When I was younger, I was endlessly fascinated by my dreams. I even kept a journal where I would rapidly write them down when I first woke up in the morning so I would be sure to remember the involuntary patterns of mind. I spent hours trying to decode the meanings and messages of my dreams.

As I grew up, however, the curiosity about my dreamlike state of mind gradually subsided. Don’t get me wrong, I still find dreams to be extremely intriguing. I guess I just don’t have as much time for dream dissection.

But this morning was different.

I woke up saddened, angry and confused. And then I realized that which I was upset about didn’t really happen. It was just a dream.

Now let’s pause for a few quick tidbits of information that will inevitably come into play later (in this entry as well as in many of my entries that will soon follow)…

1. I love Starbucks
2. I love “my” Starbucks baristas
3. I recently quit my job in Boston
4. In a few weeks I will be leaving Boston
5. I have been flip flopping back & forth about my feelings regarding the later two points

Okay, back to my dream last night…

It was just like any other afternoon. Around 2 or 3 o’clock: Starbucks break. It was often the only precious moments of personal time etched into my entire work day. As my fellow coffee-addicted colleague and I walked into “my” Starbucks, the baristas greeted us by name (actually, they only greeted me by name, but that’s beside the point, although I suppose it could be relevant later). We ordered our drinks. And for some odd reason I ordered my morning drink (a double tall non-fat extra-hot latte), which was strange because I tend to mix things up in the afternoon, but I suppose that’s beside the point. As we waited for our drinks, we launched into our routine round of afternoon gossip.

And then it happened…or didn’t happen, rather. They never called out my name. They never called out my drink.

At first we weren’t too concerned. After all, we always have A LOT to talk about. But the clock kept ticking so eventually I casually asked, “Excuse me, I just wanted to check on my drink. I think it may have gotten lost or something.” And then the barista (note: this was not actually one of “my” baristas, but some random dream intruder barista) let me have it…

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Your drink has been sitting here this entire time you’ve been chit chatting away!”

I was flabbergasted. “What?!” I responded quietly, cautiously, ” I don’t see it…”

“Right here,” she says as she holds up a short (and by this point the opposite of extra-hot) latte.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but that isn’t what I ordered.”

Just as the words released themselves from my lips, another barista chimes in, “Of course not. That’s typical. She always has a complaint.”

At this point, I was positively speechless – especially because this second barista was one of “my” baristas (in real life, outside of this dream – or should we say nightmare – encounter)! I never complain, I thought to myself! If anything, I hold back my complaints…even when I have something legitimate to complain about! Plus, everyone here loves me! Why would they ever think – much less say – such a terrible, not to mention untrue, remark?

I woke up shaken and hurt. Why had they been so mean? So out of character? I immediately thought about how frustrating it was going to be to go out of my way to go to a different Starbucks on the way to work. And then it hit me: it was just a dream.

Suddenly I was filled with an amazing sense of relief. And in more ways than one. First of all, I was incredibly grateful that that horrible Starbucks experience didn’t actually happen. And secondly, I started to wonder if my subconscious nighttime thoughts were trying to send me a message. Sure, nobody is going to kick me out of the city of Boston (or my favorite Starbucks for that matter) by being mean to me, but it is time to leave. I believe my dream was trying to tell me to let go. To let go of my Starbucks, often (as crazy as it may sound) the best part of my day. To let go of Boston. And on a deeper lever, to let go of my comfort zone.

Maybe it’s a bit of a stretch, but if I have to manipulate the meaning of my dreams to make me feel better about this incredibly bittersweet transition, than that is exactly what I’m going to do…but, and please hear this my dear subconsciousness, I don’t need another dream like that to convince me any further!

Choosing MY Own Adventure.

I’ve had enough. Enough complaining. Enough pouting. Enough feeling sorry for myself. Enough acting as if the situation is out of my control. Enough of this negative, pessimistic, defeatist attitude.

Maybe the world doesn’t owe me anything, maybe the world isn’t my oyster, BUT that does NOT mean that I should give up believing in the possibility of achieving my dreams.

Because if I don’t believe in myself, how can I expect anyone else to believe in me?

From here on out…I am choosing my own adventure.

Maybe I’ll go back to Antwerp and become fluent in Dutch. Maybe I’ll go to Iceland and become a hot Viking chick. Maybe I’ll join the Peace Corps and save the world. Maybe I’ll escape to the mountains of Colorado on a permanent yoga retreat. Maybe I’ll travel down Tobacco Road and get my doctorate at UNC. Maybe I’ll dance on down to Latin America and Zumba my way through life. Maybe I’ll awaken Ansel Adams from the dead and steal his eye for genius black-and-white photography. Or perhaps I’ll follow all of my crazy dreams, as ever-changing as they are, and just see where I end up.

It’s MY life. It’s MY adventure. I could flip to page 13 or page 207…whatever I choose.

Hang on, folks! It might be a bumpy ride!