the disaster artist
The other day, I had the most awe-inspiring and terrifying realization: I can really do whatever I want with my life.
Like, who trusted me with this much freedom and agency?
There’s always been something so reassuring about the prospect of structure - having a plan and sticking to it, always anticipating what’s to come. But, at the same time, there’s something so painfully monotonous and boring about sticking to structure as a go-to method of living life.
And I can confidently assert this opinion because I’ve done both. I made the seven year plan and referenced it as my sole source of truth for what seemed like forever. I diligently followed my self-prescribed “steps” and proudly maintained consistency.
The result?
Shiny new accomplishments, personal milestones, and a whole lot of dissatisfaction.
Although I recognized the personal and professional progress I was making, I couldn’t help but crave something more. I eventually dreaded going through the motions and experienced an insatiable desire for change or a challenge. Despite my full time job occupying the majority of my time and mental capacity, I knew I had to spin up different spaces of my mind.
I took on my own entrepreneurial endeavors, learning about a whole new industry and throwing myself into the process of obtaining a professional certification for it. I traveled to new places and experienced addictive feelings of freedom and fulfillment - feelings I will continue to chase throughout my life. I even invested into myself, ‘dating’ myself and getting to know the new me: Who is she? What does she want in life? How can I best support her?
While I’ve always been an adept planner, there’s always been a small, shadow part of me that craved the ability to throw caution to the wind, say ‘fuck it’, and completely change everything. Is that self-sabotage? Or is it self-soothing?
Last week, I met up with my office bestie at a speakeasy tapas bar in downtown SF to catch up on life’s recent developments. We sipped sherry and spilled tea, occasionally interrupted by European men dancing between the tables with tambourines.
I told him I was ready to take on a major shift in my life, career, and personal focus. I expressed that I had taken a while to develop enough confidence in myself to trust the process and follow my heart. You know, just to make sure this wasn’t that small, unabashedly impulsive part of me that was speaking and not ME.
He reassured me, reminding me that, in the time that he’s known me, he’s observed that I lead with an open heart, letting my energy walk into the room before I do and following my gut instinct. And, while I’d been framing my impulsiveness as the enemy, there are angles from which I could instead view my impulsiveness as an asset.
One more wine glass later, we were on to talking about our wildest dreams: traveling the world, owning a business, learning a new language, pivoting career paths entirely. Be it the buzz or not, but I felt so good talking about what we wanted most in life as if it was already ours. As if we’d already made it happen for ourselves.
Because we already have.
Just being able to fathom that our wildest dreams could be ours means they already are. It made me realize that the biggest thing holding me back from what I truly wanted was myself.
Sure enough, as I’d observed over the past couple of months, the second I stopped living in fear of the future and allowed myself the excitement and energy to go out and make things happen for myself, the more and more doors began to open for me. Turns out switching that scarcity mindset to an abundant one really unlocks a whole new level of opportunities.
I’d also realized sitting in that fear of the future, the unknown, and an overall lack of control was what was holding me back from my highest potential. No one ever accomplished anything by being comfortable.
And, honestly, when it’s all said and done, I would rather be spontaneous and sporadic, relying on serendipity to lead the way rather than be predictable and pinched for true passion.
That’s all I’ll say on that matter.
Case closed.
