In less than two weeks, my daughter will have gone to her first concert. This is a big day for both of us. For her, she gets to see her idol, Demi Lovato, LIVE! She's in tears every day talking about it. For me, I will have no commitments on the calendar or any reason to stay close to home once the concert is over. I am in tears every day thinking about it.
Moving to Mexico was a big step, but we only moved to Ensenada, which really wasn't that big of a step. We were planning to move further south with plans to sort of hunt and gather to survive, but then Mr. Jones got some work offers that he couldn't refuse after months of being unemployed. So here we are, just two hours away from San Diego. It's convenient.
I have a personality trait that some of you might share with me. In a particular profile assessment, it's called a "destructive" feature, which sounds awful, and it can be, but it's not if the person with the feature is in a healthy place. HUH? Okay, follow me. When a kid plays with LEGOs, he's building something out of blocks. But when he's done building that creation, what does he usually do? He tears them all apart and starts over! He builds a new thing fresh in his mind. And then tears it down and starts over on a another new build.
This is what creatives do. They create, recreate, break down, add to, destroy, and start all over again. But when a creative person is in a stagnant space following a predictable daily routine, they might go a little stir crazy. They could start obsessing over the tiniest things. They will become agitated and anxious. If they keep going down that road of stuffing their need to create and recreate, pretending everything is totally cool, they will become destructive in the bad sense of the word.
Unfortunately, their explosion might get them blamed for all the bad stuff that's going on at home or at work or in a relationship. Creative people that explode are easy scapegoats. I'm almost at that point... the point where I'm going to pop. Just in time, the schedule is loosening up. I'm feeling like there's a little turn off up ahead. Like I've been carrying around a big heavy backpack for a while and it's almost time to take it off for a bit.
I can't be in one place for very long. I always felt like a loser for what I saw as the nasty habit of a flaky person. But really, it's just who I am. It's in my DNA. It's not that I don't like being home. I just need to get out and explore. Unfortunately, I also have this desire for security. I crave it like a warm blanket. Sometimes I fall back into a life that's safer... scheduled... stagnant.
As much as I hate that stagnant feeling, I could never resist the pull to just be normal. Because normal scheduled people with jobs live easier. Sometimes I want that life just so I can fit in. It feels shitty when someone with a nice car, a house they've lived in for more than five years, a job with a hefty salary, and a degree from a really cool college looks at me like I'm too old to be fucking around with my life. I always think about all the choices I made that lead me away from that sort of life, and I hate myself for making them. After a couple of days of beating myself up, I detach from the one-size-fits-all thinking. I would never be happy in that life for very long. I know that.
I don't have a regular paycheck. I don't own my home. I don't even have five year plan! But I do have this need to create and recreate and travel and discover. And in less than two weeks, for just a little while, I'm detaching from a calendar and the house in Ensenada. I'm packing my camping gear (and the kids and the dog and the laptops and the phone) and I'm going to go do a little exploring.
And I'm in tears just thinking about it.