Thursday, September 1, 2011

almostfearless.com

almostfearless.com

Transitions are Tough

Posted: 31 Aug 2011 11:04 PM PDT

Mae nam beach on Koh Samui (taken by the husband on his iPhone)

 

I’ve been in a reflective mood this summer. In part, it’s because I’ve been working on proposal for a project that will span over two and half years — if I can sell the right people on the idea. In order to write the proposal, I’ve had to spend a lot of time living in the future, all while sitting in beautiful Thailand (but largely ignoring it) as I construct what my life will be like in six months, a year, two years, and beyond. I’ve written about places I want to go for this project: Beijing, Beirut, Buenos Aires — imagining what I’d see there, researching what to expect, putting together timelines and events and an entire elaborate future that does not exist. Yet.

It’s a total mind-f*ck. It’s causing me some spiritual pain, as I’m forced to ask really hard questions like: is this what I really want? For most of us, that’s a question that’s best saved for no more than once every few years. A big part of why I’m traveling and not working on software installs from a cubicle in Boston is that I really enjoy the feeling of not knowing. And even if is this project doesn’t happen (which there’s a good chance that it won’t) I’m still wrestling with a question that has been looming over the past year. Now what? I can do anything I want — I always could, but now I really know that — and all I have to do is decide which direction to point the boat in. An abundance of options isn’t a bad thing, but it does remove the comfort of a well-worn path. Old fears are bubbling up: what if I pick the wrong thing, what if people don’t like it, what if I can’t do it, and of course the old stand by, oh god, what am I thinking?

I’m trying to think of it as the tax you pay on having the life you really want. You have to keep deciding, putting your neck out there, taking chances and pushing past the fears. In a lot of ways, that never gets easier, but you do begin to notice the tell-tale signs. Uncertainty is uncomfortable. But it’s the most direct path to the places I want to go.

It’s with no small amount of relief that I heard about Dr. Brené Brown’s The Gifts of Imperfection (from @mikeakim, thank you!) and it’s been exactly what I’ve needed, right now, in this head space. She did a TED talk about living authentically and while I’m not at all touchy-feely, her academic background (she’s a researcher and university professor) she finds a way to talk about the tough stuff that’s both powerful and logical.

A friend of mine is going through his own transition: he’s planning to leave his corporate job (in order to start an online business and travel full time) in just under two months and the days seem to be dragging on forever. He curses me out at least once a week on Facebook (I post an update from the road, he says he hates me…) and while I know he’s kidding, I also know it really, really sucks to be between two worlds. About once a day I get an email to that effect, someone is about to leave, or starting to plan, or just saved enough and I can hear the desperation or relief based on where they are in their process. How do I do it? I can’t wait? What should I do? It’s the reason why I stopped writing detailed how-to travel the world advice because no matter what I say, it never takes away the agony of uncertainty. The people who can live with that feeling make it, the ones who can’t retreat. That’s not a judgement, it’s all well and good and probably more complex than any of us understand, but there’s no way to make it easier for anyone.

My process is to talk about it. I know it’s weird for me to mention a project that I can’t even tell anyone about yet, but either way, I’ll fill everyone in on the details as soon as I’m able (even if it doesn’t work, I still think the idea has merit). My husband wrote the other day that our life “isn’t a permanent vacation” and someone asked about “what does that mean?” I think it’s impossible to say this without sounding ungrateful, but travel is not enough. It’s not enough for me anyway. I love writing and projects and building things. I love travel and having a flexible life but I never thought I would quit GE and sit on a beach for the rest of my life. Other people would love that. I’m just too restless to rest.

This week we’re in Southern Thailand (Koh Samui), spending sometime with our good friends Tracy and Colin Burns from Our Travel Lifestyle who have two adorable kids and are probably the nicest people you’ll ever meet. I’m reading books for my research on my Kindle, typing up notes and interview questions on my Mac as I sit by the pool and Cole and Drew have been swimming and playing on the beach. I’m tormented and itchy and “leaning into the discomfort” as Dr. Brené Brown would say, because I’m trying to do something I haven’t done before. I have to remember that. It’s never easy for anyone. You have to feel your way through and neither run from it or let yourself collapse into self-doubt. A tight rope act of self-management.

The funny thing is that it’ll be so easy to forget this feeling in a year when I’m sitting in Buenos Aires, amused at my dumb luck.

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