In the great yonder that is adulthood, it's always kind of been my thing to live my life with intention. I've always sort of known what I wanted to go after, or what I wanted to do and what I didn't. I've had this sense of who I am, and who I'm not. Up until the year from hell. Since I've felt like I'm away from myself; like I'm waiting to wake from a weirdly mediocre dream. I've just been living my life.
It occurred to me recently that after I lived in Paris and traveled through Vietnam, I was convinced I was going to change the world. That was six years ago now, and all I've done is live my life. I haven't done anything all that grand. And after the bad year and its residue trickling into this year in a way I didn't expect, I don't feel like I'm living with much intention.
I've been stuck on a crazy rollercoaster and there have been some things that have stood out along the twists and turns and sudden drops. A listening ear is a powerful healing tool. Showing up is key. When you feel broken into all sorts of weird pieces with sharp edges, the very thing you need around you is someone who can handle that. Being that someone to another takes intentionality.
For several years, my best friend lived two states away – a six to eight hour drive. We talked on the phone for an hour or two every week, and probably texted an obnoxious amount. She moved back to the cities two years ago now, and since we have seen each other nearly every week. For a while, it was Thursday nights. No matter what other thing I had, Thursdays were off limits. I think that consistency has saved my life. The intentionality we both put into our friendship makes it possible and meaningful. The amount of time we've logged filled with laughter, tears, and food is invaluable. She's my best friend because I can count on her and she uses intentionality in the way she does relationship.
Not long ago, I realized I don't have so many of those consistent relationships. I have flippantly flitted around and made a lot of weak friendships on fun but not a lot of effort. That's not to say the people aren't worthwhile, but the depth isn't if it detracts from having more relationships that are of greater depth.
Finally I find myself at the end of the current rollercoaster, a dating relationship that looked like a fun easy coaster at the beginning and turned out to be a high-speed nonstop wooden corkscrew. As it pulls to a stop, I'm of course nauseous and disoriented. There are the people who are there to help you off, hold a bag while you barf, and put an arm around you to help you stumble away.
I'm really tired of being the mess. It's been a while since I've felt like as big of one as I've been for over a year now. Whenever things have been good for anything that classifies as a stretch, I'm hesitant to admit it to anyone who asks, for fear of crying wolf and being a sad hermit mere moments later. I look at the ones who've been there for me, and I want to be them – not for the lack of my pain, but because I admire them. I want to be the one living with intentionality again, not the mess that needs someone to just listen for an hour. I want to be the one that sacrifices bedtime because her friend needs someone to go to a concert with instead of being alone. I want to be the one who listens and says I'm sorry.
It can be easier to live without being intentional. Flutter around on whatever wind may carry you. But then you're not the master of the direction your life is headed. There's so much of life that's out of our control, such as whether someone loves us back, but there's just as much that is a choice, such as loving without expectation of return. I ran myself dry giving away all my love in the wrong places, but when I get filled back up...I hope I've learned enough to use it well.
