Cheers to the Journey!

"I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference."

~Robert Frost

I have faced crossroads in my life that I felt like I'd been slowly walking toward for years. As if somewhere in my backpack of life I had a guidebook that warned me about this place- "You will cross a river by foot, scale a large mountain, and walk approximately 56,938 miles before coming upon a stand still. At this point you must choose your path. No big deal. Don't worry yet, just start to consider your options." And those crossroads all came and went without much fuss. Because the truth that nobody will tell you is this: most of those choices don't matter. Most of the time, we make the same choice that we were always going to make no matter the circumstances. We believe we have free will, and to a large extent we do, but humans aren't particularly fantastic at taking advantage of that fact.

But then there are the crossroads that we never expect and cannot plan for. The tree that falls down on the trail and leaves you no option but to either climb over the tree or slice the damn thing in half. Or the storm that comes out of nowhere and forces you off the trail altogether. I have come to feel intense gratitude for these crossroads. There is no better way to intensely get to know yourself and what really matters to you than to be forced to decide RIGHT NOW what you are going to do. Which road will you run down full boar, knowing you will leave the other forever in your dust? Which wind will you catch? You don't get years to prepare. You don't get to weigh the options. You get to close your eyes, believe in yourself, and follow the only thing that gets to have a say: your heart. It is in these moments that we get to meet ourselves. It is in these moments that our fullest selves get to emerge and fully embrace us. It is in these moments that we are most free.

I have experienced only two of these moments in my life. One was when I learned that my father had fallen and had severe head trauma. He had only hours or days to live. He was unconscious. I would never talk to him again. I would never get closure for our relationship. He would never meet his grandchildren. I would never again celebrate a Father's Day. That moment shaped me immensely. I didn't have time to think about it. I didn't have time to prepare. That was simply my reality. My choices were to either accept it and survive, or deny it and exist. I chose life.

The second moment came last week. I had been dreadfully unhappy in my career for  years.  I was in a stable position at a reputable company (even if they were emotionally abusive, toxic, and horrific). I had a steady income and benefits. And yet, I knew that I would never be happy there. After a year long job search, I realized that I would never be happy anywhere. I had a fantastic interview with a wonderful company that gave me a momentary glimpse of a light at the end of the tunnel. I knew they wanted to hire me. I should have been thrilled! I was going to finally escape the hell that I had been surviving in. I had finally broken free of my cell. Surprisingly, all I felt was sadness. I called my husband to tell him that it went well and I would probably be hired. I told him I was sad and didn't know why.

He said "Nicole, you want to write, right?"

I thought for a moment and responded, "Yes."

"Then do that," he said. "You will never be happy until you really pursue that and give it a shot."

"Can I do that?" I asked. "I won't have an income. Can we live on yours?"

"We'll be fine. This is what you want to do. You've been wanting to write since I met you."

I paused for a long time, taking in my surroundings. I considered the option. I considered the alternatives. I thought about the shocked looks on my friends and family's faces. I thought about the money. I thought about the tremendous relief of knowing that I was finally going to be doing what I had wanted to do for the entirety of my life.

"Okay," I said. "Okay! I'm going to do it......holy shit.......I'm going to do it......."

"Great!" came the response from my husband. I realized in that moment (as I realize in many moments) how lucky I am to have married him. I know we talked more after that. I'm sure I said a few more expletives and yelled. I know I cried. But I don't remember anything else. I felt an overwhelming peace about it. As irrational and crazy as this was, it felt like the most sane decision I had ever made. There was no looking back. There was no re-considering. I had chosen the path. I had already sliced the tree in half. Nothing would put it back together.

 

And so, here I am. No more guidebook. No more trail. No more security or benefits. No more income (eek!). And most surprising of all? No more fear. No more agony and sadness. No more suffocation under the weight of what I would never be. No more shell. I am blazing a new trail for myself. And I am so freaking pumped about it!

 

Cheers to the journey, kids! It's gonna be a wild ride.

Restless

Today I find myself restless, which seems to be the only way I can find myself these days. I sit watching a movie I have seen many times before, look at the screen and say aloud and to nobody at all “Just do it.” I have no idea where it comes from; my heart or my throat, or what it’s for. But I take it to mean “go get in the shower and actually start your day.” And so I do. I shower, feeling the sting of the hot water splashing on my freezing toes, making them feel as if they might just break off. I dry my hair and get dressed; first in a red dress with brown tights, and then in my skinny jeans and a scarf. Nothing really seems to feel right today, but the jeans and scarf are familiar and so they are my choice. I slip on my boots and walk to my car. If I were awake I might notice the vibrant orange leaves crunching under my feet. I might feel the breeze and marvel at the beauty of it all, but I haven’t been awake for a while.  I don’t suspect I will wake up today. I drive to nowhere in particular. I just drive. Taking the turns that my car feels compelled to explore. Of course I find my Starbucks, because what good is a random wandering if it doesn’t take you home eventually?

As I sit here drinking my Gingerbread latte in a red, holiday cup, I have a sad and yet comforting realization. I have lived this day before. I have felt this emptiness and dull drumming of hunger at some other moment of my life. Perhaps it's been all I've ever known. Perhaps I will never wake from it. And yet, the strange thing is, I think I'm okay with that. I am comfortable with the warm dripping of espresso and the bleakness of a grey sky. I am happy to hear leaves crunching beneath my worn black boots and to feel the biting cold air on my nose and cheeks. I am somehow awake in this groggy slumber. 

I understand now that this is all there is. I will age. I will hear "I love you" and "Congratulations" and "I'm sorry." I will watch those I love pass away or move to other states. I will get hired, and I will quit. I will take up new hobbies and find things I think bring me happiness, and I will forget those things that I used to like, sometime ago just beyond the reach of my memory. What was the name of that friend I knew so well before? Oh it doesn't matter anymore....I will sometimes smile and I will sometimes cry. But crying doesn't bother me. When I cry, I am awake. I feel the sting of salt in small cuts in my lip from biting them too hard.

And through everything, I know I will come back here. I know I will come back to this place of quiet contemplation where everything seems so easy and clear. Where the worst and best thing are both the same: acceptance. I will revisit this forever. But for now, I have to leave. I have to walk back to my car, drive the familiar route that no longer requires my attention, and make my way to my home and rest. Because tomorrow I will wake up, and I will need my strength to do this again, one time more.