I published my first blog post eight years ago today. I was 22 years old at the time. My life was different back then, and I have no desire to go back. I like my life better now.
When I started blogging in 2002, I did so because I was planning to drive cross-country for the first time, and I would be doing it by myself (I’ve now driven cross-country on a number of occasions, always solo, between Virginia and California). I started blogging to give my family and friends a way to keep up with my adventures, and I’ve been blogging ever since.
I know I’m a different person than I was eight years ago, but there’s one aspect of my personality that hasn’t changed. While I’m no longer in the clutches of a raging quarter-life crisis, my tendency to crave change and look for ways to shake up my life hasn’t diminished as I’ve gotten older.
On the surface, my life is good: I like the Washington DC area where I’ve spent the last four years; I have a lot of friends; I have a good job and my own apartment. But I can’t deny that I feel discontent. There are a few options I’ve considered: I could stay with my current employer, but take an assignment at one of our international offices that would get me out of the country for a while. I could quit my job, or take a leave of absence, and travel around the U.S. for a few months. (I’ve always wanted to go to Alaska. And I’ve never been to New England. Hell, I’ve been to California and many states in-between, but I’ve never been to Philadelphia, which is only a few hours drive away.)
I realize some people consider these options drastic. While I recognize them as life changing events, neither do I shy away from them. Maybe I’ll choose to do one of these things, or maybe I’ll choose something else. What I do know is, I’m glad the decision is up to me and I’m free to make a change if that’s what I decide I want to do.
The thought of drastic change scares me a little, but sometimes you have to force yourself to be scared and uncomfortable. The possibility of regret scares me even more.
