Routine scares me. Actually, it terrifies me.
To me, routine signifies death. Bahahaha. It signifies fear, fear of the unknown, fear of newness, fear of adjusting, adapting, expanding, fear of potential. I’ve always felt that for some reason.
As a child, anytime I envisioned myself doing the adulting thing of moving into an apartment or buying a house, I felt my heart darken with dread. The idea of being strapped down to one place… even one that I would rent out killed me. I didn’t want to deal with maintenance, all the side stuff that comes hand-in-hand with a 30-year mortgage. I didn’t even want to imagine the idea of leaving the same place and coming back to the same place.
Even now, every home I’ve lived in, I always felt safe because I felt this would never be my permanent place. That it was my parents’ home, not mine. I mean it does feel good having a place to rest and be, but I think no matter where I go in the world, I will be able to find that, one way or another. I think there will always be a way.
Growing up, I imagined visiting different countries, living in different cities, exploring endlessly. In the words of my best friend, Stef, it felt like the world was created for us to explore, to walk through, to enjoy.
It isn’t about the destinations themselves. It isn’t just the excitement of something new. Actually, in it a way it is. It’s the new experience of myself in each place. It was the experience of knowing who I am in different places, with different people and cultures. It the new encounters I attract, the people I connect with wherever I am, whoever I am at that time.
I love the idea of being able to pick up and leave. I love the idea of being tied to the whole world, not just one spot, one city, one county, one radius. The idea that the world is my playground. It feels limitless. I feel limitless.
There’s no room for routine – forever. I understand and do incorporate routine and habits in my life so I can get things done and put some structure in my days. But when there’s a world out there for the taking, how can I adhere to routine for routine’s sake? Why would I choose safety for safety’s sake?
What purpose is there to maintain anything? Why? What are we taking away from the world? Where are we going that our routines and safety has value?
I don’t know. Nothing seems worth holding on to. Everything is going to pass, right? We’re all slowly heading to our graves. Some faster than others. Fewer happier than others. Even fewer freer than others.
We’re all dying, folks. You, me, every single person we encounter, every single human being that exists on this planet, every single human being that will ever be born – we’re all heading there.
Makes me really think about how I want to live this life. Makes me pay attention to who I am, what I want, where my desires lead. Because I don’t think there’s time to do otherwise. I think our answers, the direction of our journey is within, imprinted in our hearts, ingrained in our souls. And we simply have to pay attention, and act on it out of honor and respect for the lives we’re given.
I think I understand that at this time, permanence isn’t the thing for me. Even though I’ve lived in the same area all my life, even though my dad looked at my star charts (using my birthday and time of birth) and said I’m not meant to travel, none of that shit matters.
I am all I am, and I choose how this story gets told. I give myself permission to whatever the hell I need to do to live out my truth.
This scares the crap out of me, for sure. It’s also the most irresistible thing in the world. In the world, I tell you. Which is why I must go searching. Into the world I must go. Teehee.