I have a question for you.
Do you ever feel like you are in a tug of war?
Not the kind with teams and a rope. I’m talking about the kind that goes on inside your head. Or your heart. Or both.
Call me crazy (don’t worry, I hear it a lot!), but I’ve always felt a tug of war going on in my head and my heart. It started with the kind of life I “should” be leading…and the kind I wanted.
I knew I was supposed to follow the “normal” path in life—graduate from high school, go to college, graduate from college, get a good job, be a responsible adult and so on and so forth.
I tried that “normal” path. Made it through high school (high school should be outlawed) survived college (how, I will never know) and set out on my life. Problem was, graduating from college and being on your own is SCARY. I moved to the big city, got a job, an apartment all that fun stuff. I loved my apartment—it was awesome. It was a 1-bedroom in Uptown Minneapolis, a cool old building with big wooden staircases, red carpet in the entry and halls, and rumors that Prince had lived there. (Actually come to find out, one of the tenants did hair/makeup for Prince.) I loved the feeling of that apartment—a claw foot tub, wood floors, built-in shelves and buffet and a walk in closet. It felt like I was living in a magazine and it was all mine. I was “living the dream”.
I made it 9 months at my first “real” job. Working 12 hour days for a large corporation, recognition was based on how much you sold—nobody cared about who you were, just that you showed up and hopefully sold something that day.
This was sooooo not me—if I were a customer coming into this office, I would turn around and walk right back out. I wanted more time to focus on customer service and personal connection with my customers—but instead, I faced a culture that promoted cookie-cutter procedures and quick, mindless interactions.
So I left and worked two part time jobs, thinking it would be better. They were small companies who knew your name and cared about you (or acted like they did). But I was so bored I couldn’t wait to get out of there at the end of the day. Who knew an office job would be so boring? So when my dad offered me a job at home, I jumped at the chance. I would be happy back in my hometown working with family, right?
Nope. Fast forward two years, and again my job is boring and I can’t wait for the clock to hit 5 pm. I decide to go back to Minneapolis and go to art school. Explore my creative side — now we are getting somewhere. Maybe this was what I was supposed to do.
Art school was amazing. I felt like I was ME during art school. I found another studio apartment in Uptown Minneapolis and if I laid just right on my futon I could see the city skyline and lights. I even had a plant named LaMont. My apartment was on Dupont so he was “LaMont on Dupont”. (Corny, I know, but it still makes me smile.) This building had red patterned carpet in the entry, too. Coming home felt like walking into a posh hotel. My “self” was winning the tug of war.
So I graduate from art school and find a job in my hometown. All excited and expecting the dreamy art job where I am designing beautiful projects and making a name for myself as an up-and-coming designer. In reality, my 2 year degree gave me the skills to be a factory worker at a computer. Recreate a basic art design on a computer and send it along. Over and over and over again. So much for designing anything heartfelt. I was shriveling up like my poor plant LaMont.
I meet a boy. Fall in love and decide to move to Florida. Sign me up! I always wanted to live in Florida—throw away my snow boots and winter coat, absolutely! We move without jobs or a place to live—just a U-Haul packed with all our worldly possessions driving down to the Sunshine State. You have to be young and dumb once right?
A month later, we find out I am going to be a mom. The best thing that ever happened to me—my beautiful baby girl.
**Insert eye roll here, as she is 15 and I am the most annoying human on this earth.**
We lived in Florida for 11 years and lived what I thought was my dream. The world of crafting and creating slowly opened up to me there. Scrapbooking, painting, repurposing things, thrift stores and all their amazing treasures. Not to mention the beautiful weather, the beach, the salt, the sand, the sun—heaven. I have always loved the water, and Florida was my happy place.
Then real life struck again. I got downsized from my corporate job where I pretty much got paid to screw around and maybe work a little during the day. My husband at the time decides to start his own business while I am on unemployment, which eats up my severance pay, and the mortgage and truck payment are still due every month with little to no money coming in. Welcome to 2008 and the Depression Recession.
So I buried my head in the sand (not literally—that would be SO uncomfortable!) to ignore the reality. My passion (obsession) became garage sales and thrift stores. I was accumulating a pretty good stash of crafty stuff and I taught myself to sew. It was fun and I was in my own little world being a stay-at-home mom. This was supposed to be my happy place.
Then reality shakes again and I’m getting divorced with no job, no money and no place to live.
So I call my family and they immediately say come home. I move across country with all of my worldly possessions in your car (see the cycle here?). I go back to where I came from and I START OVER.
My family has been with me through it ALL. I swear they are all saints. They stood behind me, picked me up, brushed me off, let me cry, and pushed me back out into the big old world.
And guess what? I made it through. It might not have been pretty or perfect or proper but I wouldn’t change anything. I have learned, grown, made mistakes (a lot of mistakes) and learned and grown some more.
This might be the part where you start to think I’m rambling…but really, I’m leading you right back around to the tug of war. You see, through all my experiments in life, my “self” was actually winning the long game.
I’ve learned along the way how to separate the things that I truly want, from the things I’m supposed to want—that often end up feeling empty. Things like:
- making money
- being successful
- living in a fancy house
- driving a fancy car
- keeping up with the Joneses
- …at ANY COST.
Turns out, I know from experience the costs of this so-called perfect life aren’t worth it. But it turns out we all have to walk this journey and learn from each step, no matter what that step is. Looking back, I was not living a good life trying to follow all these “shoulds”. Stress, poor eating habits and more stress caused my health to deteriorate — I was sleeping as much as possible, headaches all the time, I even ended up in the hospital with anxiety and depression.
The real me was still buried deep in the sand.
Flash forward to my life, today.
I’m not that person who chases the Joneses and does what she should. I want to be the person with the thoughts and dreams and hopes and what ifs and making my life MINE — not what society says. Living life on my terms and taking care of my daughter and myself and being there for my family. Focusing on what I was created to do — even though that is not black and white, and the journey can be painful — it is still ME.
I have brought all of my thoughts and dreams and hopes and what-ifs back, and I am shining a big, bright spotlight on them, right on center stage. I want to know what the real ME looks like. I am getting closer every day and I have come so far from that girl in Florida who almost lost everything.
But I know what she didn’t know. That girl didn’t lose anything —she gained EVERYTHING.
What have you gained? [weight doesn’t count ;)] Share in the comments below at least 1 thing you have gained in your life, that may have felt like a loss at first.
