I am in the passenger seat of a Honda CRV riding through a hellacious summer thunderstorm near Greensboro, North Carolina. For what feels like forever—certainly since that day I walked out of my office three months ago—I have been in transition and tumult, trying to get to a better place. At the moment, that place is my childhood home some 100 miles from here. In general, it’s simply a place of greater stability and comfort.
But stability and comfort can hardly be my top priorities, not in light of the choices I’ve made. A certain amount of upheaval should be expected when you quit your job—there’s just no way around it, folks, and it’s better to embrace it than to run from it. Embracing uncertainty becomes a part of the game for anyone who chooses to step outside of their comfort zone, career-wise or otherwise.
This past week, I considered this as I navigated the tangle of highways in the Greater Atlanta Metro Area, searching for the ideal place where my husband and I can make our nest. In August, we’ll relocate there for his new job, adding to these recent months of experimentation and new experiences.
Yeah, I figure if you’re gonna rock the boat, you might as well rock it hard.
Cruising the freeways in the sticky heat, I began to realize how much this move will stretch my abilities to cope with the unfamiliar. How am I supposed to plough ahead to cultivate the things I’ve found most important in life when my new environment threatens to reroute me?
The answer could be easy. Since I want to (for example) write, I will simply keep writing in Atlanta. And since I want to more deeply study yoga, I will wake up every morning and salute the sun. No problem, right? Well, except … I confess that I fear I’ll wind up devoting myself to the practices I now find so vital and enriching, only to look around later and realize that they are irrelevant in my new setting.
So the question is … What the hell am I going to do with myself in Atlanta? Like everything else in life, it remains to be seen. I think I am actually starting to like it that way.
We seem to have driven past the edge of the storm to a dry, calm stretch of roadway. It’s late, and I’m tired as hell, but this journey (for all its trouble) feels like one that is taking me back to my roots, rather than ripping them out from under me. I don’t know exactly what’s ahead, but I trust myself more than ever to maintain my hard-won priorities, and to accept whatever life holds for me. All the while, I hope to stay curious about what I can offer in return.