Unfiltered Friday: Boundless.

So I went to California for the Yellow Conference and, to put it lightly, it was amazing. What I wasn’t expecting was how hard it would be to talk to people about my life, to answer the question “What do you do?” because I've let so much confusion and shame surrounding it lately. But with each speaker and each conversation I simultaneously felt built up and like walls were coming down. Words continued to bust through the walls, the ideas I’d let become my cage, the circumstances I’d let make me small, the season I’d let box me in. With each talk I heard, I was reminded of the heart that beats wildly inside of me to make a difference, to live for more. With each conversation I found myself in, I found it a little easier to talk about myself and what I love.

It was like dynamite blasting holes in my life.

I think I started to believe I’d be lost forever. I feel like parts of me are fading, the colors of my life dulling with the daily grind, the routine, the doing work to pay the bills, the attempts to please others and meet their expectations.

I’ve lived in that sweet spot, where everything is loud and life is bold and moments are created by the purpose beating in my heart. It’s like there is a soundtrack playing behind me everywhere I go and light exudes from something deep inside of me.

It’s a space without walls, without borders. There are no weights and no restraints. Anything is possible. I can taste the freedom in the air. It’s sunny and bright. I feel boundless. Ready to run. Ready to fly. Ready to live. Loudly. Boldly. Fully alive and fully myself.

It’s like there’s a fire in my heart and it’s about to burst out at any minute.

And I don’t know when it happened, when I started to believe that I’d just have to be okay not living like that because that wasn’t realistic. I don’t know when I started compromising being fully alive for making a living.

I don’t know when I started letting the opinions of others, the words of others, the expectations of others start building the prison I live in.

I don’t know when I started letting someone tell me I should live inside the safety of these walls when all I’ve really wanted is to live without bounds. In the wild. In wide open spaces. Free. Alive.

To sleep under stars and chase the light and run wild.

I’ve been incredibly sad the past year or more. I don’t fully understand it, the rise and fall of my spirit, the coming to the end of myself, the feeling like something is missing.

When you aren’t doing any of the things you love, when you are going through the motions for a paycheck, when you can’t find any of the things you value in any of the things that take your time, it’s time for a change.

I honestly don’t know what it’s going to take. I’m not sure how to balance all of the things and still be good at all of them, especially the ones that matter. I don’t know what to give up, what to change, what to release, what that looks like and how it will affect me and the people in my life.

But I think it starts with knocking holes in the walls that feel like they are closing in.

I’ve always valued space. I need space. I need time to myself, away from the noise, away from the to-dos, away from expectations, away from responsibilities. Time to just be, to reflect, to rebuild and get filled up.

I think that’s why I’ve felt crushed lately, like I’m fading. Because I’ve allowed so much to crowd my space. My own worries and anxieties, my own fears, the words of others, the expectations I feel from others, financial pressure, the list is never-ending.

They stack and build, and slowly, brick by brick, they’ve surrounded me, allowing no light in and preventing me from getting out.

In the middle of it all, I think I began to believe that I’d used the max amount of days in the period of Still Figuring It Out. That I’d hit the deadline and should have graduated by now. That people wouldn’t want to read any more words from me about Struggle and Hard and Still A Little Lost.

I thought my time was up. I thought, I can’t reemerge until I have a plan, until I’ve reached a solution, until I can give people something concrete, something easily defined. Until I have a solid sentence crafted to give in reply to that question, “ So what do you do?”

I thought I wasn’t credible until I had an elevator pitch and that no no one would want to hear my words if the story hadn’t changed.

Why show up again and again if the struggle is still the same and the resolution is just as far?

 

Maybe the goal isn’t a business or a job or a title.

Maybe the goal isn’t a destination to get to, but the place to operate from. To occupy the space that allows for full, soulful, meaningful living. The space that calls to that wild thing inside of you, the one that begs you to live as though you are free, because you are. To make a home in that place because that’s where the magic happens. That’s where the light lives. That’s where the creativity flows.

I don’t understand it really, but I know when I’m operating out of that space, as my best and full self, life just happens. And it’s so good.

I don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to do, but I know where I’m supposed to be— that boundless place I feel free.