The past month or two of my life has been in a constant state of flux, and it’s starting to get to me.
With the move just completed and a wedding fast approaching, with countless projects piling up professionally, my mind has been all over the place. The two years I spent in New York blessed me with an unusual amount of focus – I was able to concentrate on tasks, get things done, make things happen. Create, create, create.
I knew that leaving the city would impact the options my fiance and I would have from a social standpoint (what do you mean there are only a dozen restaurants on this block?) But what I wasn’t prepared for was the impact uprooting my life would have on my….brain.
I can’t concentrate. I can’t focus on anything for more than a few minutes. The fire that I’ve enjoyed that compelled me to tackle a myriad of activities simulatanously with consistent vigor seems to have gone into hibernation.
Granted, I am about 10 days away from a wedding. And granted, planning said wedding has been as involved as everyone said it would be.
But nonetheless, it’s been about a month since I’ve felt really “on,” in my professional life. It’s been about a month since I’ve had anything interesting going on in my brain, anything I felt warranted time discussing. It’s been about a month since I felt anything less than dry in my spiritual life.
Perhaps this is a good thing – one could argue that if I were focused primarilly on my work or on being a clever writer I would be distracted from the biggest day of my young life. Indeed, the only thing I’ve found myself able to get excited about lately is the wedding, and that might be healthy.
But as much as I’m looking forward to next Saturday, I can’t help but feel like I need a shot in the arm in other areas of my life. I long to have words, thoughts, ideas pouring out of my brain again. I long for the desire to get up at 5 in the morning, to greet the friendly baristas at Starbucks right as they open, to knock out a day’s worth of work by 10 in the morning.
Instead, I find myself in Colorado, with a television set for the first time in two years, clicking the channels with the rapidity of a seasoned couch potato. A month ago, I downloaded a video game to my computer and have since spent WAY too many hours playing it.
In the past month, I’ve seen a glimpse of the life that I used to silently (or not so silently) chastise others for living. A life seeking mindless distraction, a life not constantly looking for ways to grow and stretch, a life not interesting in using one’s abilities to their absolute limit. I’ve seen a glimpse of the life I swore myself I’d never have.
There are a number of realizations I’ve made as a result of this glimpse. First, my life’s direction has largely been dictated by where I’ve been and who I’ve surrounded myself with. The past two years of my life were the most productive, most enjoyable I’ve ever had. And I’m convinced that my life’s trajectory moved the way it did because of the city I was living in and the woman I was spending my time with.
Colorado Springs is a sleepy, sleepy town. I have yet to have a conversation with someone (other than my father) who has been pursuing a big, bold, audacious dream here. Someone who was doing something that they knew to be insanely difficult but infinitely more satisfying than the status quo.
Chicago seems similar – I’ve managed to find a group of supremely talented guys there in a very short time, and I feel exceedingly fortunate to have done so. But the city as a whole lacks the energy that New York had – no longer can I go to a bar or restaurant and be virtually assured that whomever I talk to is living a life on the edge, consciously deciding to see how far they can stretch themselves.
What that means is that I’m going to need to make a concerted effort to create that feeling for myself. I’ll have to think through how I structure my days (now that I don’t have an office to go to) and how I design my surroundings to be conducive to dreaming and doing, not sitting and vegging. It means that, though my social calendar is likely to be significantly more spare than before, I will continue to live without the distractions of television, will delete the football game from my machine, will continue to spend my waking hours working, learning, growing, dreaming, reading, contemplating, writing. It’s easy to relax, to let my guard down, to allow the curtain to slowly fall over a mind that longs to dream and learn and reach. But I must not let it happen.
The second lesson is that I’m even more lucky to have Michelle in my life than I thought. I’ve had girlfriends before (some for a very long time) and for the most part they were sweet, loving people. But I didn’t admire them, didn’t respect them, didn’t look up to them the way I do my fiance. I met this girl and immediately my life took a new direction. I met a woman that doesn’t need me to support her, was never looking to be a trophy, and in most ways is my superior. I’ve never before been in a situation where I looked up to the person I cared about the way I do her.
Being in a relationship built on intense love, on mutual admiration and respect, does something to a person. It makes them want to reach for mountains that previously seemed insurmountable. It makes them want to make the most of the time they are given.
I do very well when I have her around. I do very poorly when I don’t. I often joke about her being my muse,but I find myself drawing a significant amount of my energy from her. Being near her, talking with her, laughing with her, even working with her give me a boost that no cup of coffee possibly could. I want to be my best self because of her.
We’ve been apart almost two weeks now (and with the previous trips to Chicago, an organizational trip to the Hamptons and Vegas it’s been much more than that) and I’m struggling. I need to see her to feel like everything is right in the world. I need my fire rekindled and I now know that she plays an integral part in that.
I’m excited about my wedding and the honeymoon in a way I’ve never been before. But I’m also excited for what follows, when my life regains some semblance of structure and consistency, when I can look forward to seeing her every night and can tackle the following day with intensity and passion and life.
