I have been thinking a lot lately about the directionality of my life. The end of the school year always seems to do that to me. Or maybe it’s the springtime, I don’t know. Point is, I have been thinking a lot about the big question of “Is this it?”. Half the time I’m ok with this being “my life” for the rest of my life. They other half of the time I feel completely claustrophobic; thinking what’s the point in going on, if this is really “it”.
A friend recently asked me what I would do with my life if fear, money, daily constructs were not an object. I easily responded that I would quit my job in order to stay home with the kids and spend more time with , them. I felt like this was a good answer and one that I truly meant. She then responded with “That’s what you would do for the kids. What would you do with YOUR life; for YOU?” And with the question I became silent, because frankly I have no idea.
Long story short, I have commitment issues. If you know me, you know that this is true. I have a very hard time committing to people, even friends. I’m one of those people who doesn’t have a lot of friends, but has a few very close friends. A shrink would probably classify this as a “fear of abandonment”; I tend to leave people before they can leave me. Unfortunately, my commitment issues, or fear of abandonment, is not limited to people. I tend to quit ideas, hobbies, jobs, and many other things. Some may say I just to prefer to be well rounded, but we all know that it a lie. I’m constantly scared of missing out, or afraid that something better might come along. Deep down, I know it’s also a fear of failure that makes me quit. I took four languages in high school and (except for french), I can’t say more than a few words in any of them. I learned how to knit, but gave up beyond simple scarves. I learned the violin, clarinet, and flute in one year, but can’t remember much of anything. I transferred colleges three times and grad school once, thinking there was a better experience somewhere, yet winding up exactly where I started. Let’s not even count how many houses/apartments I’ve lived in since graduating high school 15 years ago (BTW – it’s 12, not including the 2.5 years I lived in a dorm)
This was a few hours ago, and I am still thinking about this question. And, honestly, I still have no answers. Basically, what I have come to accept is that life is short. Unfortunately, I seem to struggle with the age old questions: should we make the best with what we have or should be simply go all in for what we really want? And really, when I figure out WHAT I really want, will I ever have the courage to close my eyes, hold my breath, and jump?