I’m not even exaggerating.
I’d spend the day with a large group of people—a few real friends and hoards of acquaintances and virtual strangers. We’d start the bar crawl at 7am and end around 2am on March 18th.
It was fun. At the time, I truly believed partying all day was as good as life would get. I bought into the societal story that as soon as I left college I’d be boxed in, weighed down with responsibility, forced to resign to what was expected of me.
I thought those years in my 20s were the only time I’d really get to be Me. After that, I’d have to be one of Them.
But I had it completely backwards. It’s just the opposite.
These days, 3/17 looks more like dressing my girl up in shamrocks, drinking a kale and kiwi shake for breakfast instead of green beer, and spending part of my packed day in hard core gratitude for the “luck” around me. Writing things that reach people, helping brave souls separate fear from facts, all the while staying tuned into the stories that are causing my own pain.
Boring? Boxed in? Not even close.
I’m not gonna lie; there are definitely times I miss my old life.
When it would be easier to numb out than to actually face the lies of “I have to” and “I’m not good enough” that parade through my head daily.
When flirting with cute strangers was so much easier than being open and vulnerable in real relationships.
When calling in sick on the 18th meant letting down a corporate boss with whom I felt no real connection…very different from now, when it means bailing on myself and the unbelievable people I get to serve.
So life might seem harder in some ways now, but it’s incredibly natural and easy in other ways.
I work on staying awake and aware and that’s not always easy; but I also get the reward of being Me. I’m working on following my own way. Not (bar) crawling with a crowd, but running (power walking is more my style, actually) in my own direction.
Not just feeling like I fit in, but actually belonging in this life I’ve created.
That’s what I call Lucky.