I feel like Fred Flintstone in that car of his. My feet are spinning and spinning, my mind is engaged and ready to go, I have a song in my heart and a dorky smile on my face, and the world needs to just get ready for me because here I come. But as I look around, I am exactly where I was when I started. I have, in fact, gone absolutely nowhere.
Ever been okay with your life? I mean, just okay? You like your life. You can’t complain. Everything is good. Very good, thank you. You’ve got a family you don’t hide from. You wake up wanting to go to work. You like your job. You’d choose it again if you had to. You like your friends, too. No one is currently on the need-to-find-a-way-to-drop-HER list. You get exercise and eat right like you’re supposed to, most of the time. You could stand to drop a few, but you’re really okay with where you are. And that’s the thing. You’re okay. You’re just okay.
I need something to move me, to send chills of thrill up my spine, to energize me, to rev my engines, to make me throw my head back when I finish and say, “FUN! Let’s do THAT again!!” Yeah. I need something like that.
Only I’m not supposed to complain, right? My life is okay. I’m warm and dry and have plenty of food. I have food to share. Hell, I have money to share. I love my kids, and they love me. I love my husband. He SAYS that he loves me. You can be more sure about kids than husbands, but let’s just go with that. I have a job I love. I have a job. Many people would love to be where I am. Many people would love to be close to where I am. So who am I to complain?
I’m big on the idea of using everything you’ve been given in the name of serving others. I’m big on not wasting talent, on maximizing your gifts, on throwing yourself out at the world in order to make that world a better place. I’m big on discovering who you are and then taking that who you are out into the world to better the lives of those who need their lives bettering. I’m big on leaving no talent stone unturned. And yet, here I am. Sitting on my big fat talent.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m tossing out little bites and nibbles. I teach, but two or three classes a term at most. I write, but unpaid and for a crowd of about thirty max. I use the gifts I’ve been given daily in my parenting and my friendships and in my marriage. I’m very clear on what those gifts are, so I’m good there. I’m very clear, too, on how I best express those gifts, so that’s not an issue. But, good Lord, could I not do a little more? Could I not pretend at least to try to maximize my giving? Could I not be so complacent and just act like I need to think about improving my skills so that I could throw more of my gifts out to the world?
The problem is that I’ve grown so comfortable where I am. It’s easy. I could do it with my eyes closed. Some days, in fact, I do do it with my eyes closed. Ok, so, most days I do it with my eyes closed. But is easy good? Well. Sure. Easy is good in the sense that it pays the bills, funds regular shopping trips for cute little cardigans and have-to-have flips, and puts fresh, local, organic food on the table. Sure. Easy is good. But it’s not going to move me, to send chills of thrill up my spine, to energize me or rev my engines in a way that makes me throw my head back when I finish and say, “FUN! Let’s do THAT again!”
No. It won’t do that.
I’ve heard it said that nothing great ever happens until somebody busts out of her comfort zone. Well, I’ve signed the papers and packed my bags. I’m leaving that comfort zone of mine. We’re just not getting along, and I see no reason to stay and try to work things out. I think we’ll both be better off without each other. It’s time for me to set off on my own and see what I’m all about without that wretched ball-and-chain to hold me back. It’s scary, I must admit. But a girl’s gotta know when to move on. And I'm thinking that moving-on time is now.