I’ve been thinking a lot about my life. Again. A lot about the type of woman I have been, I currently am, the type I want to become. Here’s where I would normally write something along the lines of:
It’s strange, being forty-four years old, starting over, beginning again, and learning who I am.
But that’s not how I feel. I am not starting over. I largely know who I am. I know what I like about myself and I have a pretty good idea on what I’d like to improve. This is a continuation of life. Do other people do this? Do they segment their lives into beginnings and endings? Or is it just me? I understand now that the beginnings and endings are such brief moments of our lives, and the bulk of our time is spent here, in the middle, in the in-between. Instead of looking to the past (the endings) or the future (the beginnings), I’m learning to stay in the now, learning to slow down, not rush, move at a sustainable pace. I’m learning to make small decisions instead of the large, grandiose ones. Measured, considered.
I’ve always had a bit of wildness to me. My wildness is where I thought my creativity and passion came from. It has been a core of my identity for some time. But now I’m wondering if this wildness is an excuse so I don’t have to sit with things: fear, heartbreak, giddy joy. If I’m constantly looking for the next, new thing and willing to move on when boredom, or fear, or uncertainty hit, the wildness is an excuse to let go of discomfort. However, that discomfort is an opportunity to learn something new. Now I think, Let me sit with this. Let me feel this for what it is. What do I need to learn from this?
I have a wild, wandering soul.
Moving from a wild mind to one less chaotic is interesting. I worry that tamping down my wildness means I will lose touch with the raw, authentic parts of who I am; remember, it has been a core part of my identity. Don’t I know that the wildness will always be there? I have a wild, wandering soul. This is okay. In fact, it’s great. It’s what pushes me to seek out new opportunities, it’s what makes me run toward my fears, it’s what has allowed me to be so self-confident and assured in many areas of my life (hey, when you’ve hitchhiked through California, been thrown from horses, have a failed business under your belt, you start to realize you can pretty much handle anything).
A wild mind is reactionary. It takes the world’s inputs and acts on the first thought in order to respond. Yet, that first thought may not–often isn’t–a correct thought, meaning that you probably don’t want to take action based on it. The first thought isn’t aware of the full issue, doesn’t have historical context, doesn’t know what consequences there may be from taking action. The first thought is totally fine to have because we actually can’t control our thoughts (seriously, can we? I don’t think so…I don’t know where most my thoughts come from). So, I am practicing recognizing the thought, setting it down, and walking away. Most of the thoughts I have can just be put aside, discarded. It’s kind of revelatory, to be honest. You mean I can just ignore this wild, cantankerous, obstinate thought creature in my head? I don’t have to listen to her nonsensical bleatings? Lovely.
And so, from here, I do not know my next steps. I don’t know what the future holds. I am reconsidering everything. Am I really a writer? Do I want to pursue that? Do I want to sail? Do I want to finish school? Do I want to date a man or woman next? Do I even want to date? Do I want to write code anymore? Everything is on the table. From here, there are only possibilities.