I've cleaned out my closet 3 times in the past two months. I bought two new mascaras. And seriously considered dying my hair. If I lived alone (and had the space to actually to do so), I would have rearranged the furniture in my apartment at least once.
I'm restless again.
Do you ever have those days? Those weeks? Those months? Where you’re looking around at your life and thinking something has to change. Maybe not a big thing, necessarily. Then again, maybe so. But maybe it's just something tiny. Something in the everyday details.
Part of me feels like I'm living in this worn-out, over-sized, old sweatshirt. I'm comfy and cozy. I generally like where I'm at. I like who's around me. I like what I see when I look out my window. It's familiar. It's safe. It's nice.
But then part of me doesn't feel comfortable at all. Feels like it's time to shed that lazy lounge wear and get my butt in gear. Part of me wonders when comfort becomes complacency. And complacency is just not something I'm comfortable with. I just can't deal with the idea of settling.
And so there's restlessness. One of the very worst feelings. It's just dull and boring and itching and twitchy. It's like you're just waiting for the heat of something to pull you towards it. Waiting for the passion to move you in the right direction. Just waiting.
I generally like to get where I'm going.
I walk too fast. I tend to drive just a little over the speed limit. I pay my bills ahead of time. I get that assignment due Friday done on Wednesday. I don't do well with the slow and scenic route. If I know that there's a destination, I just want to get. there. already.
So waiting? And restlessness? Not really my cup of tea.
I want to move. I want to do. I want to be calling the shots. I want to be in control.
And yet I'm back in the antsy mode, wondering what comes next.
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one, wild and crazy life? - Mary Oliver