I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.
I don’t know what kind of job I want, where I want to live, how I want to spend my money, what church I want to go to, what my dreams are, or if I really want that tattoo.
Sometimes this uncertainty is really exciting. It makes me feel like I’m getting the True Post-Grad Experience: Constantly on the verge of a full mental breakdown. And it comforts me to know I am like most people my age who are wondering who they are now that no one is grading their homework and they don’t have an easy way to run into their crush via their class schedule.
But I do know this: I want an adventure. And I want it NOW.
I want to rescue elephants on a preserve in Thailand. I want to be that Hollywood director’s assistant. I want to be the poorly paid intern at Saturday Night Live. I want to live on a sheep farm in New Zealand. I want to work at that one-room school in Uganda. And when I’m done I want to come back with my own stories to tell.
But I wonder, is my desire to strike out on my own really selfish of me?
I have been blessed with the most amazing group of friends. They are like family to me. We thrive in a community because we live together and live life together. They plan on remaining in the same place for a little while. So is my desire to discover life on my own for a bit synonymous with turning my back on people who love me and want me around?
And why do I crave this kind of adventure anyway? Is my desire for adventure about chasing wanderlust or is it about proving myself? Because I think it takes a lot more guts to stick to life-giving relationships rather than validating your independence.
I am glad for this adventurous ache.
Wanting adventure and wanting to see the world is not a bad thing. In fact, it is a very, very good thing. My question is, why do I want adventure?