I love road trips. But Life got in my car, pushed me out of the driver’s seat, told me to hold on, and took me for a crazy ride. A little too crazy, a little too fast, and a little too unpredictable. Other times, Life was driving Miss Daisy so slowly, the snails were zipping past us. Life also sped through red lights, went down some one-way streets the wrong way, and turned left instead of right a few too many times. Some detours made it impossible to backtrack. Meanwhile, the map flew out the window and my compass broke along the way.
Instead of a wild ride, I’d rather take a leisurely Sunday drive down a country road and sit for a while, enjoying the sounds of the ocean, watching seagulls glide above me, and feeling a cool breeze and the warm sun on my face. No noise. No drama. No chaos. Just peace.
When I was 18, I was full of youthful energy, hope, and optimism. I was confident I was going to accomplish great things during my lifetime. I was going to design cities as an architect, be married and have a few kids and lots of pets, prepare feasts for large family gatherings, drive a nice car, live in a loft apartment in downtown Seattle, and have a vacation home in the mountains. As an artist, I was going to be self-made, working for no one but my muses. I planned to live the American dream.
After a few decades of adulting, however, not only has that vision dramatically changed, but so has my reality and my confidence in actually achieving any of those dreams.
Other people now provide my transportation and I’m a passenger on the road trip of life. There were no large family gatherings; I was a single parent to an only child. I still don’t own my home; it’s not even furnished with my belongings. My things are all packed away in storage for “someday,” including all of my art and side-business supplies. My muses have abandoned me.
Although I avoid dwelling on the past, I also no longer see a future. When I look at my life now, I’m very much in the present. Stuck in the moment. Existing. I have little to enjoy today and nothing to look forward to tomorrow except more of the same.
Instead of moving forward, I’ve been knocked backward so many times that I’ve lost count, and I find myself asking, “What is my purpose? Why am I here? Why am I living like this and how can I change it?”
I suppose everyone asks themselves those questions at some point, especially as they get older. But I never had to ask before. I always knew deep down in my heart that I was destined to do great things and help a lot of people. I never doubted that… until now.
My current life feels more like a nightmare than a dream, and it’s costing me dearly in every respect: spiritually, emotionally, physically, and financially. The only thing I know for certain is that if I don’t make a change, it will kill me. I have never been so disheartened, so discouraged, and so unhappy. Change eludes me... but not for a lack of trying.
People will tell you that if you don’t like your job, find a new one. If you don’t like where you live, move somewhere else. I never realized what horrible advice that was until I no longer had the means to make those changes for myself. Money is choice. Choice is freedom. And I have few options.
It’s too expensive to move. Good jobs are hard to find, especially ones that pay a decent wage, provide interesting and challenging work, where you can feel respected, appreciated, and valued. Honestly, if you’re going to spend 40+ hours each week of your life doing something, it should be enjoyable and rewarding. You should feel like you’re making a difference.
Am I making a difference? If so, how? I have no clue.
How do you make a change when you have no disposable income? It’s impossible to make any major life changes, so you focus on little things instead. Small moments. Tidbits of joy. A Sunday drive. And you hope to collect enough of these to make one bigger thing that will make your life feel worthwhile.
The spiritualists will say, “Be grateful. Wake up each morning and be grateful for everything in your life.” Supposedly, practicing gratitude will attract better things into your life.
My gratitude mantras start out something like this:
- I’m grateful for my family and friends.
- I’m grateful I’m not dead.
- I’m grateful I have a roof over my head.
- I’m grateful I sometimes have food to eat, even though I can’t afford healthy, nutritious food most of the time.
- I’m grateful for the 50 cents in my savings account, and I guess, also that I have a savings account.
- I’m grateful I have a car, even though it’s halfway across the country and doesn’t work.
- I’m grateful the stress in my life hasn’t landed me in the hospital yet.
- I’m grateful for the job that barely pays the bills and leaves nothing left over for…
Well, you get the idea. It quickly digresses to the things I don’t have. “I’m grateful for this, but…” And there’s always a big but. I’m not very good at this and will obviously have to work on developing a heartfelt gratitude for what I do have without adding the but at the end.
But sometimes it’s hard to be grateful.
The gratitude mantra exercise seems so superficial. It’s like faking a smile until you feel like smiling for real. Yes, I am grateful because things could always be worse. But I’ve also learned not to say that, because things always get worse when I do. It’s as though the universe, or whatever powers that be, are determined to prove me right.
Gratitude is also a tricky thing.
If someone does something for you, my experience has been that you forfeit your right to complain… about anything… as though that one favor cancels out all the other stuff you still need. And if you do complain, you’re suddenly a whiny ingrate who doesn’t deserve anyone’s help.
So here’s my revised gratitude list:
- I’m grateful for my fingers and my brain and my laptop, so I can create and record stories for others to read.
- I’m grateful for the battery and electricity that powers my laptop, so I don’t have to use pen and paper to write.
- I’m grateful for the ability to be a storyteller, so I can create worlds and characters to help myself and others escape the real world as needed.
- I’m grateful that others are interested in the stories I have to tell.
- Oh, and I am grateful I’m not dead yet, so I do still have time to make a better future.
Perhaps, I just need to fix my car. Then I can take that leisurely drive and find a quiet place to stop along the road where I can write a story or two. Maybe I’ll also find that map and compass again while I’m out there.
And this time, Life can ride shotgun.
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