Outgrowing the Room

Last month, I found myself making plans for a future I no longer desired. I was doing something rather mundane, like organizing my calendar and thinking about the upcoming months, just like I always do. Then I realized I was still planning for a version of my life that I had already begun to move away from, and this realization lingered with me longer than I had expected.

I was aware that I was unhappy; it wasn’t a surprise to me. However, caught up in responsibility and routine, I had become so used to going through the motions that I didn’t realize my mind was still trying to hold onto something my spirit had already left behind. I began to wonder how long I had been living with that disconnect, and, more importantly, how many others experience the same thing.

So naturally, I’ve started reflecting on direction and how easy it is to miss when it doesn’t come with certainty. When I was younger, I believed that clarity would feel like confidence. I imagined that when I found the right path, I would know right away! There would be no hesitation and no second-guessing. However, that has never been my experience; far from it. More often than not, clarity has shown up in the form of discomfort; a feeling that something no longer fits and a restlessness I keep trying to explain away. It’s like realizing I’ve outgrown a room while I’m still standing inside it.

And for a while, I misinterpreted my feelings as ungratefulness. I kept telling myself to be practical, stay the course, and appreciate what I had. We live in a world that celebrates perseverance, even through struggles, which are undeniably valuable. However, perseverance and attachment are not the same, nor are stability and purpose. I had even confused staying “put” with being loyal, as if remaining in one place automatically meant I was honoring the life I believed was meant for me.

Looking back, I can see that direction almost always begins the same way. Like a conversation I can’t stop replaying or a persistent thought that returns long after I’ve overlooked it.

I’m beginning to learn that peace isn’t the reward for finding your purpose, but sometimes it’s the first sign that you’re finally walking toward it. I’m more than looking forward to that now, even if I don’t have all the answers and, like every human, still have fears. What I’m most excited about is walking in my purpose, which will, at the very least, make pretending impossible.