In a month or so, I will be a resident of West Virginia. I've driven through it twice, but I've never seen more of it than highway signs and gas station bathrooms. I certainly never dreamed I'd be moving there. Maybe the world really is ending this year.
Thus far, 2012 has been an introspective year. I've been thinking a lot about life paths, patterns, meaning, magic, destiny, and most of the things one thinks about when examining their choices and current trajectory. I think one of the reasons I like math so much is because my life moves in infinite cycles, repeating themselves over and over again until I'm dizzy. If my life was a graph, it'd be a sine wave. It's hard to map progress when you're moving in spirals that often lap back to the beginning. And lack of measurable progress can often be quite disheartening. If life is measured by accomplishments, I am failing.
I thought, when I was finally diagnosed with ADHD that life would change somehow. And, I guess it has in a way. Mostly, though, I've just become less of an enigma to myself. My spiraling life is just a mirror of my thoughts winding round and round themselves. My tendency to fail at school after a successful semester is also indicative of my condition. Folks with ADHD are a group accustomed to truly epic failures. Success comes hard. It brings with it a mix of fear, shame, and anxiety. It's slippery and scary. And so, after a big win comes a big depression. And then enters failure. And the cycle repeats itself.
I've been living my life in this holding pattern for a long time. I always assumed that by 30, surely, I would at least have my bachelor's degree. And, had things been different, that may have been a possibility. For instance, if I had known that I had Attention Deficit Disorder before I was 28, I would have understood my setbacks better and been able to find a way to work around them. Or, maybe not. Being a child of a narcissist, I wasn't actually allowed to have diseases. It's highly plausible that ADD, like Asthma, would have simply been a make-believe disease that really meant I was weak-willed. So, perhaps finding out as an adult did more good than harm. There's no stigma attached to it. I spent the better portion of my childhood pretending I could breathe like a normal person and refusing to admit when I was having an asthma attack. I was 25 before I'd let my doctor prescribe me medicine for it. How long would it have taken me to allow myself to actually have ADD? I shudder to think of it.
More than anything, I want to finish school. I have all these puzzle pieces swimming around in my head, and I'm certain that they fit together to form a truly spectacular whole. But, I don't have enough knowledge to fit them together yet. Someday, I hope. Unfortunately, I've failed so many times and taken out so many student loans that the only way I'll ever have a bachelor's degree is if I pay for it myself. And... That brings us back to the imminent move to West Virginia.
One of my favorite things about getting older is becoming more self-aware and accepting. And, 2012: An Introspective has at least led me to the realization that this is me. This is my life. Right fucking now. I can spin in circles waiting for something to propel me forward, or I can do something completely crazy and move forward myself. Selling paint is not what I want to do forever. It's not my life's work. But, it's what I'm doing now. And, I happen to be very good at it. So why not allow myself to move upward and onward in that particular field? And why not have an adventure while I'm at it? And maybe, just maybe, I'll bring in enough money to continue hacking away at my degree. Or, maybe not. I can't be sure. I'm also not sure if I'm going off on a tangent and will return in a few years or if I'm starting something completely new. Those things never become apparent before the very end, though. All I can do is speculate. And wax nostalgic. And, believe me, I have been doing plenty of those two things.
And, as my departure looms ever closer, I also find that it is getting more difficult to walk away. I suppose the reasons to stay somewhere never become fully apparent until you're leaving, and this is certainly no exception. As I sit here writing this and looking out my window, I have to admit that Louisville has come closer than anywhere else to feeling like home. I have a sneaking suspicion that it probably is home, and I'm just not accustomed to recognizing those feelings. And, of course, I will miss my people here. There are the people that I have known and loved for years, and there are the people that I was just getting to know. In a way, I think it's the latter relationships that are hardest to walk away from. The might have beens. Lord knows I could write a country song about them.
And, now that I'm sitting here all teary-eyed, I have to remind myself that I'm moving three hours away, and I have a company car. It's not like I'm moving to the other side of the world. It's not like I won't be able to visit frequently. And, for the first time in many moons, I feel like adventure is on the horizon. Maybe this is really is just a tangent. Maybe this is my pilgrimage to reclaim my sense of awe and adventure. Like a wilderness explorer, I step bravely into the unknown...
Thus far, 2012 has been an introspective year. I've been thinking a lot about life paths, patterns, meaning, magic, destiny, and most of the things one thinks about when examining their choices and current trajectory. I think one of the reasons I like math so much is because my life moves in infinite cycles, repeating themselves over and over again until I'm dizzy. If my life was a graph, it'd be a sine wave. It's hard to map progress when you're moving in spirals that often lap back to the beginning. And lack of measurable progress can often be quite disheartening. If life is measured by accomplishments, I am failing.
I thought, when I was finally diagnosed with ADHD that life would change somehow. And, I guess it has in a way. Mostly, though, I've just become less of an enigma to myself. My spiraling life is just a mirror of my thoughts winding round and round themselves. My tendency to fail at school after a successful semester is also indicative of my condition. Folks with ADHD are a group accustomed to truly epic failures. Success comes hard. It brings with it a mix of fear, shame, and anxiety. It's slippery and scary. And so, after a big win comes a big depression. And then enters failure. And the cycle repeats itself.
I've been living my life in this holding pattern for a long time. I always assumed that by 30, surely, I would at least have my bachelor's degree. And, had things been different, that may have been a possibility. For instance, if I had known that I had Attention Deficit Disorder before I was 28, I would have understood my setbacks better and been able to find a way to work around them. Or, maybe not. Being a child of a narcissist, I wasn't actually allowed to have diseases. It's highly plausible that ADD, like Asthma, would have simply been a make-believe disease that really meant I was weak-willed. So, perhaps finding out as an adult did more good than harm. There's no stigma attached to it. I spent the better portion of my childhood pretending I could breathe like a normal person and refusing to admit when I was having an asthma attack. I was 25 before I'd let my doctor prescribe me medicine for it. How long would it have taken me to allow myself to actually have ADD? I shudder to think of it.
More than anything, I want to finish school. I have all these puzzle pieces swimming around in my head, and I'm certain that they fit together to form a truly spectacular whole. But, I don't have enough knowledge to fit them together yet. Someday, I hope. Unfortunately, I've failed so many times and taken out so many student loans that the only way I'll ever have a bachelor's degree is if I pay for it myself. And... That brings us back to the imminent move to West Virginia.
One of my favorite things about getting older is becoming more self-aware and accepting. And, 2012: An Introspective has at least led me to the realization that this is me. This is my life. Right fucking now. I can spin in circles waiting for something to propel me forward, or I can do something completely crazy and move forward myself. Selling paint is not what I want to do forever. It's not my life's work. But, it's what I'm doing now. And, I happen to be very good at it. So why not allow myself to move upward and onward in that particular field? And why not have an adventure while I'm at it? And maybe, just maybe, I'll bring in enough money to continue hacking away at my degree. Or, maybe not. I can't be sure. I'm also not sure if I'm going off on a tangent and will return in a few years or if I'm starting something completely new. Those things never become apparent before the very end, though. All I can do is speculate. And wax nostalgic. And, believe me, I have been doing plenty of those two things.
And, as my departure looms ever closer, I also find that it is getting more difficult to walk away. I suppose the reasons to stay somewhere never become fully apparent until you're leaving, and this is certainly no exception. As I sit here writing this and looking out my window, I have to admit that Louisville has come closer than anywhere else to feeling like home. I have a sneaking suspicion that it probably is home, and I'm just not accustomed to recognizing those feelings. And, of course, I will miss my people here. There are the people that I have known and loved for years, and there are the people that I was just getting to know. In a way, I think it's the latter relationships that are hardest to walk away from. The might have beens. Lord knows I could write a country song about them.
And, now that I'm sitting here all teary-eyed, I have to remind myself that I'm moving three hours away, and I have a company car. It's not like I'm moving to the other side of the world. It's not like I won't be able to visit frequently. And, for the first time in many moons, I feel like adventure is on the horizon. Maybe this is really is just a tangent. Maybe this is my pilgrimage to reclaim my sense of awe and adventure. Like a wilderness explorer, I step bravely into the unknown...
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| Just like this guy. |
