There are those days when you just want to scream. Or get in your car and go for a really long drive. Today was one of those days. There wasn't anything in particular that made it one of those days. I think it's a surplus of emotional reactions to lots of things converging at once in my chest, rising with that anxious feeling that says things aren't right, this isn't how it's supposed to be. But how is it supposed to be? My job is great. Really great. My family here in Kansas City is awesome. So why do I feel off? Why does it feel like I'm knowingly going in an opposite direction than the lovely British voice on my GPS is telling me to? I think it's because I live two different lives. There's the life I actually am living. The eating, breathing, showering, go to work everyday life. But there's also my Other life. In this life everything goes according to plan. Everything falls just into place. I never have trouble finding the right outfit. Someone is in love with me. Work is a breeze and everyday is fulfilling and satisfying and utterly wonderful. Obviously this life doesn't really exist. I heard a pastor once refer to it as our "future self," the self you imagine yourself one day being, where you never make mistakes and are an overflowing source of wisdom, where you look, act, and feel like the perfect human being. I feel like I've split my life into these two people - me and Other me. When the real me doesn't match up to the Other me, when work in real life is tougher than work in my Other life, a sort of dissonance rolls in clouding my ability to fully enjoy this life. It's funny because all of your life you are told to dream, to plan, to imagine becoming someone. It's part of the whole motivation to not settle and to go to college scheme adults have been working forever. I get it. And while I think it is great to push yourself to be someone better, for me it's created this Other version of myself that I am always trying to be. Not in a clinical, schizophrenic sort of way. More of a want to lay in bed and dream my life away, sort of way. Maybe it's just fear that my dreams (because they're awfully big) won't actually come to pass. That I'll look up and be fifty years old and think What have I done with my life? and not have a good answer. I haven't figured out whether this is part of that twenty-something naivety that eventually settles into middle-aged acceptance of reality, or do adults always feel this dualism of what is versus what could be? One of my favorite films from last year was (500) Days of Summer. Like it or hate it, there is a scene which perfectly demonstrates this feeling I have. Maybe you have it too. Maybe it will pass. Or maybe the two lives will converge and one day I'll be living my dream. But what if I don't? So many questions.
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