Lately I’ve been struggling with my restless heart. I have “this feeling” that I need to make a new start, have an adventure, recreate a life for myself. I tell myself that the life I’m leading today is a result of floating through the decisions that have gotten me here – either on the coat tails of another person, or a job opportunity that happened to have come along.
I know that’s not true, necessarily. I know that I’ve been lucky. I know that my life is good, as it is currently.
But I still can’t shake this restless feeling. I want to move to a city. Or I want to move to the tiniest of small towns. I want to be close to my family, and yet I want to find a brand new place to call my own. I want to meet new people, while maintaining the friendships I’ve made along the way. Maybe it’s the result of a recent birthday, or maybe I still haven’t found the meaning I’ve been looking for… Oh hell, I don’t know.
But I’m trying to trust the process. I’m trying to keep a positive face on. Because I know that the better I try to make today my best will get me much further than yearning for a future that hasn’t happened yet. Staying present can be so difficult when your heart is telling you there is something more for you out there. Perspective is priceless in moments like these, but also damn near impossible to achieve.
I’m doing my best. But I’m struggling. And on a recent phone conversation with my dad we discussed that struggle, while vaguely, because my dad’s a dude and dudes are usually uncomfortable with the direct discussion of feelings I’ve found. Nonetheless, he said to me, “You’ve accomplished so much in your life all by yourself. If I was alone, I wouldn’t have done half of what you have. You should be proud.” And that meant so, so much. So much.