Gratitude Attitude as This Moment Slips Away
I wrote this in August, 2016. It’s June, 2017. I’m publishing it now because of a desire for openness and sharing. There’s no shame in my hopes and dreams. Here they are from last year.
For years, I’ve subscribed to the belief of a “gratitude attitude”. What that means to me is that I try to reflect as often as possible on how grateful I am for all of the blessings, good fortune, privileges, and goodness this world has provided to me. I do my best to be grateful during the difficult times and see why I’m fortunate even if things aren’t going my way. I’m in no way perfect and very often get grumpy over the dumbest stuff. Still, I try to reflect on goodness as often as I can, because I know it’s a main component to my happiness.
It’s moving week. Hampden has been my neighborhood for three years. I love it here. I’m happy here. I’m even recognized around town by a few people! But, it’s time to move on. The trip is three weeks away to the day. So soon. I’m cleaning the apartment, putting my life in boxes (like I’ve done every single year for the past decade), and canceling the subscriptions. In the past year, in this particular apartment, I had the chance to live alone for the first time and it was glorious! Sleep all over the bed. Build a pillow hammock for one. Skip the dishes till you’re ready to have them done. Keep it as neat and tidy as you like it. Yep, that’s the good life.
Starting Saturday, I’ll be staying with my mom for a few weeks and then we’ll be sleeping in the strangest of places. This morning, I woke up at 5:30 and decided I wanted to nap for a bit on the couch as the sun rose. I was so grateful to sleep on that luxurious couch. I crawled back in bed before Jason noticed I was gone, but it’s moments like that where I’m reminded to be mindful of how short time is and how you have to simultaneously hold tight while keeping your grip loose enough to let go. I’ve held tight before. I’ve gripped onto days and seconds as they escaped with no way to make them stop and stay. It’s a common tale and I’m no different than anyone else afraid of loss. Going through hard times doesn’t mean you are better able handle them later, it means you know it’s going to be tough and you just have to deal with it.
Many are jealous of the trip, few are leveling with me like they would if they really sunk into my shoes. Picture this… Drop everything, for an entire year of your life, and go away to places you’ve never been (and, up until a few months ago might not have even known existed). Leave your family, friends, and city behind. Don’t work. Don’t make money. Spend money. Struggle. Know you’re going to fight through language barriers and with customs agents. Know there are things in these places will make you physically ill. Risk. Fight. Over directions and because of loneliness. Worry. Wonder what’s happening at home. Feel like you’re missing out on things big and small. Wish you could share the journey with more of those you love. Know that phone calls don’t replace hugs. Try not to envision if the worst happened, but envision it anyway. Be afraid and grieve. For you’re letting so much go and you have no idea what happens on the other side.
Am I grateful to go: of course! I’m so humbled to be able to take this on. I’m so honored to be part of something that will open up a whole new world and hopefully deepen my relationship to Jason and humanity itself. I’m going to be challenged every single day in ways that I could never be in my comfortable life at home. When I was younger and went to Indiana I was nervous, but knew farming was what I was called to do. Now, I’m older and more settled down. A dozen times people have said, “Good for you for doing this when you’re young”. I’m 32 in two months, I’m not young; but I’m childless, unmarried, and without a house, so therefore I’m not tied down.
Sometimes, my gratitude is almost a blinder, because it helps me be contented in the moment to the point that I don’t seek as deeply or strive for a new life. It’s easy to be complacent and content. Change is difficult.
I’ve been listening to a great many travel songs today as I pack. I and Love and You really spoke to me:
One foot in and one foot back.
But it don’t pay to live like that.
So I cut the ties and I jumped the tracks.
For never to return.
I’ll be back, but I’ll be different and so will you. For never to return to this moment. But, I plan on forever being grateful for the opportunity to live and those whom I love so much.