Skip to content

Just a Boy & His Subaru

On a Journey to Find Themselves

When you’re not careful, life gets away from you.

The things that you enjoy doing, the things that make you happy, take a back seat to stress, worry and other very similar unproductive attitudes. You fall into bad habits and your mind travels to deep corners of obsession.

In this sense, I’m accident prone.

It’s not that I don’t know what makes me happy, I know exactly what gives me a sense of balance and accomplishment. That’s not to say I can efficiently tune out the world at all times to refocus, and, to be honest, with the way the last seven months of my life have gone, the world sometimes gets pretty damn loud.

This last month has been rough. Not the kind of rough where you sigh in relief that it has ended, the kind of rough where you’re scraping your knees to get to the end, wondering how it will ever end.

When I first got to Colorado, I was riding a massive life high. There had been so many changes and developments that I never once had to truly think about what was actually happening in my life. Everything felt so normal and natural that a large part of me naively thought the worst was over. I mean, I had already cried over leaving my partner, I penciled in time to not leave the bed and sulk over the things in life I no longer had control over, so surely the worst was behind me. Hell, I had even successfully moved more than half way across the continent, so as far as I was concerned it was all smooth sailing from here.

Then there was this one Wednesday when I was washing the dishes, windows open and feeling great after a much-needed yoga session and protein shake, that I broke.

If there were any better way to describe that day, it would be through audio. (Maybe I should consider podcasts)

There was no rhyme or reason, no obvious precursor for the events that were about to take place, just a little itch in the back of my throat right before the dam burst open. When I use that metaphor I intend for it represent the (very literally) hours of crying that ensued that Wednesday. Nothing could hold it back. At one point, in a state of desperation, I ran a bath with “stress-fix” salts, only to find myself sobbing after the first deep breath. It was a dam.

Frantically I began searching through my phone for someone to call, to just listen to me, to make me feel less alone.

That’s when it clicked: the realization that I was alone, and not just alone, but lonely.

To clarify, there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely. I rather enjoy being alone; going out to eat by myself and sitting at the coffee shop for hours people watching. Being lonely, on the other hand, it can sometimes feel like someone has reached into the depths of your soul and stripped your will power to even sit up straight.

I felt lonely.

I felt like no matter how loudly I screamed, no one would hear me, no one would come to me and no one would care. I’m not sure I can pinpoint another time in my life when I legitimately felt lonely, so I honestly had no clue how to handle it.

Then, of course, I couldn’t forget all of the other things I was to be handling at this very moment when all I could think about was my loneliness: I still haven’t found a job, I haven’t made friends yet, my unemployment is running out soon, my bank account had seen better days, my back was in a state of extreme discomfort from the accident in July, and I missed the normalcy and routine of the life I so abruptly abandoned (this was the first time since leaving that I was openly admitting I missed my ex).

So at this point my head and my heart were just street-brawling and tearing each other apart.

My head very firmly explained that this was a bit of culture-shock, and the feelings that I felt were normal, to be expected, and they would pass; I had made the right decision to pursue my own life when the life I was living had failed to fill my cup.

My heart, on the other hand, cried that I had made a rash decision, that I should’ve tried to work through things with my ex and then I wouldn’t be feeling the things that I was feeling.

When you’re sobbing that hard, you can’t calm down and listen to your own logic. Not to mention everyone tells you to listen to your heart (even though we all know the heart can play tricks). At one point my heart and head were in agreement, now it felt like they hated each other.

I let that day go. I let the tears fall as quickly and heavily as they needed to. All in all, it was about six hours worth of crying, but seeing as how I had put it all off by masking life with the excitement of change, it needed to happen and I couldn’t deny that. The next day I was still exhausted from crying, and I don’t think I spoke an actual word until it was almost time for bed.

All day I thought about how overcome with emotion I had felt, how raw and broken I felt. I continued to think about it for nearly two weeks. Some days my mind would focus heavily on what I could’ve done to make my past life a success. Other days I would think about why I chose Fort Collins and if that was the best decision. Each time I found myself obsessing in a dark corner of my mind, something would pull me back to center, reminding me that life is a grand (finite) plan, and I’m just beginning my journey.

Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

This period of feeling, of dealing with my emotions, is surely not over. This time, however, I’m ready to face that truth rather than trying to convince myself that everything is just fine. I’ve gone through a lot in the past seven months, and while a large part of me didn’t want to admit that for fear of pity, it’s still very much the truth.

My heart still hurts, I’m still growing and finding my way, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m going to miss the good times from that time in my life, but I haven’t forgotten the bad times, the times that prompted me to leave in the first place; the reason why.

It’s important for me to remember to laugh. You have to find the humor in the world around you and the events of your life, or it’s all just in vain. When I stopped finding the irony and humor in my life, I felt dead inside. I don’t like feeling dead and out of balance. So, each morning I set out with four basic goals. If I accomplish these goals, it’s been a great day.

  • Sing
  • Dance
  • Make someone laugh
  • Count your blessings

Before I leave the house, I repeat those goals in the mirror. Along with one other: Believe in yourself.

And hey, if I need to cry in the meantime, that’s okay. Life is an ever-changing lesson on who you are as a person. It’s about changing; nothing ever stays the same. And, as a wise Whitney Houston once stated, “I was not built to break.”

It’s easy to forget, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

Those things in life that give you a sense of balance and accomplishment have to become a priority. If they don’t, life takes over, and we see what happens when life takes over.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

%d bloggers like this: