Finding a Happy Middle
One of the things that I’ve been thinking about a lot these past few days, as it begins to truly and deeply settle in that we’re now living a very different lifestyle, is how disconnected I’m beginning to feel from the things that used to be a part of how I defined myself. I used to spend hours online, trolling through Etsy, making minor changes to my Etsy shop, connecting with fellow metal artists, reading blogs for inspiration and support. As silly as it seems to draw some self-definition from this virtual world, they were all connections that made me feel like me. And now that we’re on the road, and internet access is proving to be a bit spotty, and pulling out the computer is more of a hassle than we expected, these former connections are feeling more and more distant (and let’s not even get into the former offline connections with our Long Beach community) – and it’s throwing me for a bit of a loop.
Am I really more of a home-body than I thought I was? Am I really cut out for this? The doubts start creeping in really easily when you start feeling discouraged.
But, I don’t think that it’s really that black-and-white. I believe that there’s a happy middle ground somewhere, a happy gray area. Hard to find and hard to define, but I think I’m starting to get hints about how to re-incorporate it into my day-to-day.
We’re on Orcas Island again, hiding out from the rain and plotting our next direction. And it gave me the time to create a pair of headbadges for our hosts here. It was the first time that I’ve pulled out my portable studio and really worked on anything (and anyone out there who works at any sort of creative or hands-on livelihood will understand just how easy it is to not work and how much better you feel when you finally get back to it). And, now I’m online, blogging, reading, working on my online shop. It’s a small-but-vital connection to the me that’s been on hold for these past few weeks while we worked on figuring out the basics of how to “be” on the road for an extended period of time.
I have to believe that anyone who walks away from one lifestyle to try another, no matter how exciting the new endeavor, will feel a bit of nostalgia from time-to-time and grapple with a sort of homesickness. But, I’d be willing to bet that most of us don’t own up to it. I know it’s taken me a while to admit, even to myself, that I miss those things that I left behind (and that this feeling of being disconnected doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m not simultaneously enjoying traveling and meeting new people). So, I thought I’d own up to it here, in the spirit of full transparency, so that we don’t come across as overly-superhuman (even though, sometimes, we kinda are).
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