This weekend, we went to Boston to celebrate Allie's graduation from Northeastern. It felt so good to get away. I think I'm a lot in love with that city, mostly because it reminded me a little of Europe and how I felt when I was there, full of promise. Boston is clean, and historic, and exciting.
It feels like opportunity, vibrancy, potential. Seeing those new graduates, fresh-faced and ready to take on the world, felt like that, too.
It made where I'm at right now even more poignant.
In the past few weeks, I've come to realize that I'm teetering on a very precarious edge. There are days when I come home from work and simply cannot stop crying. There's also days when I can pretend that June isn't imminent, and I'm OK. I think if I wasn't an innately positive person, I would be in a full-blown depression. That's pretty scary for me to put out there. When I say I'm worried about the future, that's true, but I think it's more than that. I'm afraid that I'm not living up to my potential. I'm afraid that I've sold myself short by opting for safe, predictable routes all my life and now the universe is figuratively shaking me, urging me to wake up. I opted to take the route of school librarianship because it seemed interesting and I like children, and it was supposed to be stable, afford me a great schedule, and let me proceed in a nice orderly fashion possibly to a job in administration someday. It was easy. It was non-threatening. There were no big risks involved. And what the hell did it get me? Certainly not stability. Certainly not predictability. Please don't mistake, I LOVE my job right now. But is it what I'm meant for? Could I seek it out to do all over again somewhere new? I just don't know anymore.
In short, I have absolutely no clue what I'm supposed to do with my life. I've completely lost my purpose.
Sometimes I think I should try to write for a living. Sometimes I think I should bake, or paint, or run away and backpack across Europe and do odd jobs for money. At this weekend's graduation, the president of the college said something to the effect of, "You're young. Now is the time to take risks. What is there to lose?" What is there to lose? Doug and I have no children. We are 27 years old. We have a house, sure, but it can be sold. We have possessions that can be stored. We have nothing tethering us except our families and our friends. Maybe we should move away, live in a city, scrape by for awhile but do something we're passionate about and have some fun. Maybe we should drive across the country. Maybe we should join the Peace Corps. Maybe we should do something, anything, that we can look back on and say, "Now that was a grand adventure. That was living."
No matter what I do, I don't think I can work another school, at least not right away. The thought of setting up a new library, meeting new students, working and trying and building relationships with an entire school of children breaks my heart. I just know that I will see the faces of the little ones I've come to adore in every new face. I know I cannot replicate the lessons I've worked on with a whole new environment. It's almost like I have to put my time in the elementary library into a sort of shrine, to look back and admire and reminisce but not to try to duplicate. I applied for a school library job, but I don't think I want it, even if it's the smart thing to do. I just don't have it in me.
For now, my safe, smart, predictable side is at war with my desire to run away for awhile and do something crazy. I'm so afraid of living in regret. For now, I've made the decision to stop applying for jobs. I need to step away. I need to take some time to reassess my life goals, to realign my inner compass that's currently spinning wildly out of control. No matter where it lands, it will be a change...and a change is what I need.
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