Accepting A New Normal

"I doubt whether a quiet and unagitated life would have suited me- 

yet I sometimes long for it." -Lord Byron

I never thought I'd make it to 20.

I'm almost 30 now.

I've spent the majority of my life (sub)consciously planning to take care of myself and not allow anyone to get too close. Don't get me wrong, I have a few amazing friends who I would give my life for, and they for me. When I say "get too close," I mean the type of close who knows every inch of your skin, the weird noises you make at night, the stupid embarrassing things you find hysterical, your most fragile fears and vulnerable sacred hopes.

The kind of close that could devastate you in moments because they know the tenderest parts of your being.

After over 2 decades of watching people leave/betray/lie to me in some form or another, I had no intention to ever open up the possibility for someone to do it again.

...I opened up my life and the possibility for someone to do it again.

Over dinner with a friend I freaked out saying, "I can't do this. I'm too scared. I've spent so much time making myself ready to live my life alone- to travel and keep moving and not count on anyone and now this person is in my life. What if I let this guy in and trust him and then he just disappears like the rest?  I never imagined this would be possible... I thought my life was just going to keep being really fucking hard, and  now there's this potential for it to calm down and be happy?? "

He said, "You know, you may have to accept a new normal. Normal for you was not having anyone else there and staying safe in your defenses, but things can change. ...you also didn't think you'd make it to 20, but here you are almost 30."

Oh, right.

Aside from my absolute fear of being vulnerable and risking getting hurt because as much as we want guarantees someone won't leave us, that's wildly unrealistic- I was also afraid of letting go of my ungrounded wanderluster lifestyle. Is finding a(nother) stable(ish) job, a home,  a love and not living by the seat of my pants all of the time going to mean I'll become one of those boring mediocre drones who barely remember any of their lives?

But then I had this realization- I'm not letting anything go aside from what I think is expected of me. I won't become a drone because I've been cursed blessed with too many experiences that have driven in the lesson that life is short and we must do our best to LIVE and take nothing for granted. 

So here's the truth of the matter. Would I change a second of any of my traveling or moving? Not a chance. Will I stop having the incessant urge to see every bit of the world that I can before I die? Highly unlikely. Do I want a home base and maybe someone to come home to? Yep. Absolutely. 

And in order to do that last thing, I need to learn to trust- trust him, trust life and most of all, trust myself.

Here's to happiness in unexpected ways and places, even when, or maybe especially when, it challenges you to really see who you are and grow.

Starry Night

When night falls and the sun has given reign to the moon, look up. I don't mean just look straight ahead. I mean look up so that your neck is tilted back and you could potentially trip because you missed that rock on the ground. It sounds so basic, so easy- just look up. 

But how many of us really give any more than a passing glance to the star-lit infinite hanging over our heads at the end of each day? 

I spent a large percentage of today (and the last several) driving myself nuts while over-analyzing every situation I could possibly think of, getting engulfed in my 'To-Do' lists and trying to, once again, plan out my entire future all at once.

As I was walking back to my house late this evening, I felt compelled to look up. I have forgotten to do so for months. When I did, I was greeted by an incredibly sharp clear sky gorged with stars of varying intensities. I remembered immediately why it's so important to slow down, take a deep breath and, even if just for a second, let go of the 8 billion thoughts racing through our heads moment to moment.

It's like an instant meditation, a visibly intangible reminder of how infinitely small we are and that at the end of it all, most of what we worry about is insignificant in the grand scheme of things. 

We're so small, and yet every single thing we do creates millions of complex repercussions of which we will likely never know about. Our actions affect everything around us. It's a balance between understanding how profoundly significant we are and how absolutely minuscule we are at the same time. 

We're tiny, but we matter.

For me, it's the ultimate reminder to live the best I know how, to love with every ounce of my being and to be completely and utterly grateful for each numbered breath.