I don’t adventure quite as hard as I used to. There was a time when I spent my summers logging trail miles, and my winters traveling abroad. There was a time when I managed my anxiety by dreaming up all the trips I wanted to take, and once I had just barely enough capital to make those trips happen, I’d take off like a dried leaf in the wind – tethered to absolutely nothing and no one. I was in my early twenties then, surviving on adrenaline, silver tequila, and bagel sandwiches. I imagined I’d spend my entire life this way- wild and free and curious.
Now I’m 27. Still quite young by most standards, but no longer unmoored. I belong to things outside of myself now. I have an apartment, a partner, 2 dogs, and a job I keep for more than 3 to 4 months at a time. I traded in cabin living and communal restrooms for a kitchen of my own and reliable WiFi. I pay rent, go grocery shopping weekly, and I’ve been to the dentist more times in this past year than I’ve been to the ocean.
I think that slightly younger version of myself might be a little terrified by the current me. In a lot of ways my life is turning into exactly what I hoped it wouldn’t. At that age, I really thought I’d be content to just fuck around forever.
Sometimes I feel bad. I feel boring and anxious, and I wonder if I lost my zest for life. But I heard an interviewee on one of my podcasts recently say something that brought some perspective for me. She talked about times in her life where everyday was a new unknown- she mentioned exploring unfamiliar cultures, climbing mountains, and one time where she found herself spontaneously opting into a jungle-deep ayahuasca retreat. Then she announced, all those adventures aside, “The moments in my life where I’ve grown the most and have really seen measurable progress in my becoming the person I aim to be, have been the times in my life where I woke up and did the same thing every single day.” I really needed a message like that one to find me on that day. It felt like this person was speaking directly into my headphones, just for me.
I realize now that I am not joyless, I have just found new joys. I am actually quite happy learning to cook in the kitchen I share with no one. Expanding my writing practice, and dreaming up the kind of future that my words could help build, fills me with new adrenaline. Car camping with my dogs has brought just as many good memories as jet-setting ever did. Goals and growth replaced ‘play hard, party harder.’
I am not joyless, just older now, better acquainted with the soul that lives inside this body, and I find it so relieving to finally allow myself to feel gratitude for this quieter part of my journey. All versions of my life have been beautiful and plentiful, the current one included.