I'm thirty. .. Wow I am thirty. To even write the words down, I am baffled that I could be THIS old. THIS thirty year old. Don't you remember when you were eighteen, and thirty seemed light years away? Well now, I AM that light year away.
Is this where it all goes down hill? I can feel the thirty year old Debbie downer take over in my body. The moment I turned thirty, I started having the worst stomach pains, body pains, my anxiety sky rocketed into a whole other light year away. Have I come far enough? Wasn't I supposed to be more successful, more resilient? I was supposed to move away from my home town, and see the world. That's literally all I can remember wanting to do. Move. Sing. Live in a van or something ridiculous, because life is short, and I want it to be weird. I was definitely supposed to have lived more, traveled more, loved more, and I sure as hell was supposed to be much thinner. Thin. I was supposed to be thin. Not thinn-er. In order to be thinn-er you must first be thin.
Well, I am none of those things. I did not do those things. I never thought of myself as a fully discontent person, but I swear it has all built up to this year of thirty. All of a sudden, I kid you not, I am trying to live everything I have missed all in one year. My goals are obnoxious, but I am convinced that I can make them all happen. I have two feet and a heart beat.. what the hell exactly is stopping me?
I want to see Prague and Vienna, I want a baby, I want to finish school, lose weight (again), and most importantly, I want to get the hell out of this desk job that is literally making me want to die more and more each and everyday.
I mean, I know I am not the only American who just sits at their work desk lifeless and full on ready to die. So what do you all do? Did I miss the turn you all took or do we just not talk about this unhappy with our lives, with our work?
I am not sure how I managed to get here, and let me be even more honest, this job is a GOOD JOB. I mean, I am not rich by any means, but I get by and I am sitting here writing this while I am on "the clock". So let's be really honest, I am unchallenged, bored, and blessed to have a job that pays well without actually having to yank a whole lot out of me.
This is precisely why I need out of here.
Have you ever felt that you were at a place in life that literally had you crawling outside of your own skin? I mean, I am actually feeling like I can leave my body, hover above me, and think to myself, this is not where you are supposed to be. You must've missed a turn, an opportunity, or God is very unhappy with you, and left you in the desert for all of your thirty years because this honey... this cannot be where you are supposed to be.
I am not thriving. This is not it.
So where the hell is it? And honestly, how the hell do I find it if everyone seems to think that I need to somehow suck it up and accept this exact life? That being responsible is more important than creatively finding my way out of unhappiness? I'm confused, how is this right?
There HAS to be more life... I am not sure where the more is, and I've looked in so many directions and none of them have pulled me in, so who knows how to know where God is really leading.
I listen to sermons each day, I read scriptures, and commentaries about following Gods path. This path could be hard, soft, beautiful, ugly, red, green, brick, dirt, asphalt, air plain trails, but you're not supposed to stress about it, your only call is to trust him.
So I am supposed to sit here and stare at my computer screen, the one that I have come to resent, and trust that God will pull me away from it?
I mean that's what they're all really saying because I go to church, I tell people, I serve, and I volunteer, and I WANT to help people, I WANT to leave the country and help those less fortunate. I WANT to feed the homeless on Thanksgiving. I DID those things. I tried to find doors to open hoping Jesus would stand there and open the ones he wanted me to go through.
Yet, I sit here stale. A broken and stale piece of whatever, with no purpose left but to throw into the trash.
... Lord forgive my unbelief.
