… or I suppose it could be a late night at dawn. Staying awake to try and get your sleep schedule back on track is a little counter-intuitive, I’ll grant you. But it’s the best I could come up with and it felt like it was about time. Once you’ve been awake until four AM, woken up at ten AM, fallen back asleep, and woken up again finally at two PM, it’s time to try a new method of madness. Particularly when you’re on the West coast and the people you interact with most run on East coast time. So here I am, seven in the morning and a misty one it is. I’ve seen too many TV shows and movies involving British moors I think; the mist is making me nostalgic for something I’ve never actually experienced. It’s also making me wish I could paint. Anyway.
I went to Thailand. We all know that at this point, I hope. But I’m not in Thailand anymore and I thought maybe I should explain why, but the problem is I still haven’t quite sorted through it myself. It’s more accurate to say that I haven’t quite figured out my own angle yet. Before you jump to too many conclusions, no, I didn’t get fired.
Pieces of the story are about Thailand. Pieces of it are about home. Pieces of both of those things are related… it’s, well it’s complicated. One thing’s for sure: I’ve always been a firm believer in the idea that money isn’t worth misery. And only you can define your own line between “tolerable” and “miserable” and evidently mine runs near a particular set of coordinates on the globe. It wasn’t all bad. Nothing is ever that black and white and every story has elements of beauty, learning, fun, etc. The story of my time in Thailand is no different and those are the parts of it I’ll be eternally grateful to carry with me. But I was fortunate enough to be able to make a choice. To know myself well enough and have the resources available to say, “This is not right for me.” Trust me, I’m aware of my own luck even just in that regard. Let alone in all of the reassurance that followed my choice, from the wonderful people in my life telling me I shouldn’t call it failure. I’m still not quite sure I believe them. Doesn’t mean I can’t go along with it for now though, I suppose. At least until I can pull myself together enough, get my head to stop spinning, and really think about everything that’s happened.
Here’s what I know: I am happy to be back in the States, for now. My definition of “home” is shifting beneath my feet and I’m in the process of catching up with it; a close friend of mine heard this and replied, “Welcome to being an adult.” I can’t say I didn’t resent the remark a little at the time, consistently self-satisfied know-it-all that I can be but I’ll admit I got where she was coming from. It wasn’t until Thailand and everything that happened and my plans fell apart that I finally felt what it’s like to, you know, not have a plan anymore. I thought I’d had plenty of chances and taken plenty of opportunities in the past to really sit and think about questions like, “Where am I going?” and, “What do I want to do?” I’ve never been without a path already beneath my feet before though. Another friend and I were catching up in Seattle and agreeing on the new question, “What do I do when Plan A fails?” and how much we hate said question. How does anybody, especially the self-satisfied know-it-all types like me, figure out Plan B when that means first you have to admit to needing a Plan B at all? I swear I’m not being as harsh with the self-deprecation as I sound (well, most of the time) I just definitely fit a certain personality type and I tend to think I’ve got a pretty solid head on my shoulders, at least when it comes to making decisions about my own life.
So much for that.
Really though, for now all I can do is count my blessings, including appreciating the love and support of the people I care about the most (something I should do every day but lately it’s taken center-stage as I’m figuring all of this out, which doesn’t seem like such a terrible outcome to the whole thing), and go with whatever I can think of that I know to be true. Dreaming (and I mean dreaming big) has never been something I’ve been shy about and if ever I get to a point in my life where I stop, then (THEN) I’ll know I’ve hit rock bottom. Thankfully, for now it just feels like time to… reconfigure. That’s a good word for it. I’m reconfiguring. Although the more I say it the less I like the word (it’s kind of an ugly word, isn’t it? As in aesthetically.) so I’ll leave it at that.
After all, there’s nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be, right? Stay tuned.