As I lay on the couch surrounded by tissues and cold remedies, watching yet another documentary on Netflix, I am guessing you are not jealous at all of my “adventures.” Oh yeah, let’s also remember to add the fact that I am currently searching for a job. Living the life.
Okay, so maybe my life isn’t awe-inspiring today. Despite a move without security, some bold decisions and my proximity to the mountains, here I am, struggling to breathe out of my nose. Impressive, huh? Maybe paying the bills and doing dishes is inevitable. So succumb to the mediocrity? No. But don’t be inhibited by it either.
I think sometimes we can let passion and excitement get away from us. We start dreaming of greatness and impact. The vision can seem so clear in our minds. It’s awesome, too. We need that vision, that drive, that passion. But when life throws something more mundane our way, we can get completely thrown off track. For some, that means not ever dealing with the chores and responsibilities of life in order to keep on towards the dream. For others, it amounts to being bogged down so much by the monotony that we lose sight of the dream. Both are terrible pitfalls.
We have to fight through both to achieve anything. And the word is fight. It can’t happen without insane effort and perseverance. I’m also of the belief that it can’t all happen at once and it can’t all happen (more on that later). There’s going to be lulls and there will be peaks. But I truly think that consistency makes all the difference. The continual push, the major and minor decisions. Keep pressing forward.
To put to words what my “health” does to my daily life is almost painful in itself. While in some ways I feel as though I talk about it almost nonstop as people question and want to hear the story, in other regards I feel as though I can hardly share with anyone at all what it really entails.
I’m not on death’s row, nor do I have a name for whatever it is that I endure. Not to be melodramatic, but endure feels as though it’s the only word suitable for it at the moment. I suppose you could liken it to a chronic illness, although in restaurants and at the dinner table we call it an allergy. If only it was that simple. Sometimes it’s not bad at all and other days it feels like more than I know how to handle.
To avoid being entirely vague for those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, for the past few years I have been through countless doctors, diets and decisions regarding my health. What was once thought to be a case of strep throat that wouldn’t quit turned into a numerous visits to the GI specialist who eventually told me my only option was to give up, because he had long ago. After senseless side effects from dozens of prescriptions, I pushed for more tests and ultimately sprung for a surgery I hoped against hope would end it all. With a few small but lasting scars to my stomach, I got to continue the chase. After an allergist jotted down some notes and sent me off without the slightest bit of advice, I found myself without a long list of foods in addition to my already absent gallbladder. From there I traveled across the state every six weeks to visit the only person who seemed to have a clue what was going on, through methods that sound laughable such as “laser acupuncture” and some crazy machine no one has ever heard of.
It’s all a barrel of laughs as we recount it over almost every dinner table we share with friends and family. We talk about it as if it’s distant history, something that hardly matters anymore, despite the fact that my diet is more limited than anyone I’ve ever met. Oh, your cousin has had to go gluten-free? Sorry to be harsh, but that sounds like a cakewalk in comparison at this point. They make aisles of products that are specifically gluten-free and have entire menus dedicated to gluten-free options. Try going without garlic, onions and corn (and all of said by-products) for a week and see just how easy it is to eat with other people. Not to mention gluten, oats, barley and many other items to varying degrees.
I’ve likely said more than I should. I wish I knew how to best express how debilitating it can feel sometimes to figure out what to eat. There are days that it doesn’t bother me and it practically seems like a non-issue, really. There are even days that I get through the whole day without feeling sick or worrying about feeling sick later. But then there are days that anything I eat feels like a huge hurdle to overcome, and I’d much prefer to skip eating altogether, if only I could be issued some sort of gummy vitamin that provided me all of the nutritional value I needed for a meal. Mentally, it’s a struggle that I cannot even find the words for at times. Physically, it also continues to be a struggle. Because some days, I’m still sick. Despite all the many things I’ve done and changed, I continue to be sick and not only do I still get sick, but then I desperately try to figure out what I did, what I ate, to cause it. The lack of knowledge in itself is maddening. This is not something I want my life to be about, if only I could shake it.
So at the risk of losing all dignity, that was my shot at honesty about it all. I don’t know how to explain it even to my closest of friends, yet it’s something I must face daily. I am still learning to handle it with grace and patience, but often fail miserably. It’s the cause of many tears, terse words and sleepless nights. I wish I could say that I was better at coping with it. Perhaps in some ways I have become better about it but in other ways, the exhaustion of constantly dealing with it has worn me down. For fear of potentially bursting into tears or speaking with either bitterness or embarrassment, I do what I can to keep it lighthearted or avoid it when possible. Truthfully though, I just wish it would all go away. It doesn’t seem likely anytime soon, so please bear with me as I try to cope as best as possible.
Lately, the hubby and I have been on a total documentary kick. We’ve always loved them, but I think we’ve watched somewhere near 15-20 in the last month or so. It’s getting a little excessive but somehow, each time it gets going I can’t help but get sucked in. There’s something about them that make you want to take over the world for good or at least commit to doing something absurd for a little while, just to try it.
We’ve watched ones about top ballet dancers under the age of 20, what it means to become “Santa” in the eyes of others, bike riding through the continental divide, using Craigslist to live and create community, what makes a man a man when it comes down to body hair and all sorts of others. Tonight, we watched No Impact Man, which was about living off a sustainable environment and giving up things that created waste and poor energy usage. They made a lot of sacrifices but also brought on a lot of new and exciting experiences.
Throughout it all, you’ve got to wonder…what REALLY matters? Is it washing your clothes in a bathtub and forgoing packaged food? It is setting a challenge of physical strength and endurance and fighting through? Is it restoring the magic of Christmas? Is it saving the turtles? Going gluten-free? Adopting ten children? Wearing your retainer every night?
While these all might be good things for you to do and commit to, you can’t do it all. It’s not possible. These documentaries often showed what people gave a major portion of their life to. What’s the cause that really matters? Why should we care about any of it? Should we continue to stand by while a few people put their dreams to the test?
I am always a “late bloomer” with resolutions/goals, as I tend to set them sometime between January and February. But these are some of the questions I am considering while I create my list. To wrestle with what’s worth it, or even what’s more important…
To sum up what traveling means to me is near impossible. It’s inspiring and wonderful and challenging and ridiculous and special and ordinary and vital all in one breath. Every time I go somewhere it makes me feel that much more alive. While it’s thrilling and sometimes adventurous, it also brings a negative side that’s just as much of a reminder of being alive.
The month I spent in China in college was the first traveling experience I remember that brought me to tears. I loved so many parts of my trip but the other half of the time I felt such a bitter loneliness and deep void that I couldn’t escape. Everything that was wrong with society and myself and my future was staring me in the face. I was trapped under this burden of angst and misery amongst the beauties and excitement of China. While I can’t even remember all that I was struggling with at the time, it shaped me. It certainly wasn’t the first thing I mentioned about my trip, if it was mentioned at all, but it was just as valuable of an experience.
The past few days we had the pleasure of spending time visiting with relatives and ringing in the new year in Music City. While it was wonderful to see everyone and experience our first snowfall this winter, it brought on some moments of pain. Facing insecurities and an unknown future isn’t exactly the kind of conversation you toss in between karaoke numbers. This wasn’t the trip that left us inspired by every opportunity or eager for more. It had touches of anxiety and longing instead. Not exactly the trip we planned, but perhaps the trip we needed.
When you find a routine, you can sometimes shelf those fears and failures while you go on with regular daily life. You forget the past if you can and ignore the impending future. But as soon as you leave that routine and surrender yourself to a wide open sky and a long car ride through the mountains, there’s no telling what your inner thoughts will unravel and unveil.
While at times arduous and other times jovial, I was grateful for the time of travel. It forced growth and contemplation, insight and creativity—and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Travel brings out all the elements, whether you’re ready or not.
We’re on the brink. On the brink of a new year, another shot at growth and change and good. With baggage from the past, both good and bad, we look forward. We run towards what’s ahead.
As I transition from one job to (hopefully soon) another, one state to another, one home to another, one family (nearby) to another, one car to (unfortunately soon) another, one year to another…I can’t help but feel the weight of that brink. Possibilities are open (not endless—I don’t believe in that). Inspiration is rampant. Failure is inevitable. Greatness is plausible.
I am so excited for what is to come. While I don’t yet know what that means, I want to be ready and waiting for it. That way, when the time comes, I am ready to make that leap.
Can you feel it? The restlessness and wonder and awe of the unknown? Can you believe that the story isn’t over? I just can’t help but feel like I am about to explode with hope for what is to come.
“And now it’s time to build from the bottom of the pit. Right to the top. Don’t hold back.”
It’s Time by Imagine Dragons
This past year the hubby got to open for these guys and I must admit, before the show, I’d never heard of them. They blew me away. I’ve been to more shows than I can count at this point and let me assure you, they don’t all make much of an impact on me…especially when I’m unfamiliar with the set list. There was something powerful about the music and the hearts they poured into it. When this song came up on my Pandora station today it gave me such an epic feeling that I couldn’t help but share (even though I know by now most people have heard it).
