“I don’t want to rip the seams of my security as much as I want to loosen them a bit and see what happens.”– me to my homegirl Muze
Long ago, on another iteration of this blog, I wrote a post called “The Girl Formerly Known as Ambitious.” [No link, sorry. It disappeared into the ether.] The gist: sometime between ages 25 and 28, I abandoned my achievement-based vision of life. I would never be a famous writer or move to a big, sexy city. I grounded in the potential for a quiet-but-creative-and-fun life in the gritty Midwestern city (and occasionally backward-as-fuck state) I call home. It was a tangible dream. And it felt damned good.
But deep down, I punished myself for choosing to “live small.” The years passed and my peaceful existence contracted into a solitary one. Relationships I once found exhilarating and nurturing felt toxic and invasive. My hobbies were as burdensome and inconvenient as “working on my goals.” Explaining and defending my simple desires exhausted me to the point of embittered silence. This was my penance for prizing peace and security over growth and chasing scary things, I told myself. I’d earned an uninspired life.
Fuck inspiration. It was was just another thing to chase on the Wheel of You Are Not Enough, Consume More and Feel Better.
But. Ya know. I turned 35. And decided to re-engage with life. Lately, that means considering what I want. My No List is still firm. No big career (my job works well for me). Hard no on a husband and babies (Tubal Ligation: Coming to a uterus near me in January 2019). And yes, I want to visit some places but I don’t worship at the Church of Worn Passports. So like. What? What else is there?
Yesterday, I wrote down the following:
A wide life; not a tall one.
Current Soundtrack: “Something to Feel” x Mac Ayers