Uncle

A week ago I wrote a posting about how I was actively seeking intense experiences and life changes. Today I'm ready to throw up my hands and call Uncle. Please, some sanity. Please, some space. Not so fast. Not so much.

What is it about me that I am constantly wavering back and forth, seeking and shunning stability in the same breath? One day I'm looking for change for the sake of change; the next day I'm desperately clinging to anything that feels unmovable.

I remember back in the days of Unemployment (oh, the humility learned! Oh the depths of despair and self-doubt to which I didn't know I could drop!), I wrote a paragraph somewhere about craving stability. Craving health care and 401-Ks and a steady paycheck and a predictable commute. I was jumping from temporary job to temporary job, never quite sure how I was going to make rent, unsure of who I was or why I was here in Boston or what exactly Plan C was going to be, since Plan A was a failure and Plan B wasn't working much better. And then I got a job, and health care, and dental, and a steady paycheck and a predictable commute and constant hours and all the rest.

And I was bored. Not at first, no, but after a few months...I was ready for changes. Ready for new challenges and new adventures. Loathing my newfound stability.

See, this is the thing I don't understand about myself. I cycle through major life changes like they're going out of style, and then I bemoan the transitory nature of my existence.

(I like that phrase. I use it a lot. "The transitory nature of my existence.")

I want everything to change. I want something to stay the same. And I want them both at the same time.

I revel in the thrill of moving; I philosophize about the inherent beauty in packing and wandering...and then I lose it when I find out I might have to move again, only 3 months after settling into my new JP digs.

I'm juggling job possibilities in the air, hoping to keep at least one of them from crashing to the ground, thrilled that I might, *might* (not to jinx myself - might) have the chance to move onto something more fulfilling and challenging...and then I flip out over the prospect of having (once again) to readjust my budget, my schedule, my commute, my relationships, the way I live my life.

I bounce from dating prospect to dating prospect, tearing through potential loves-of-my-life like I'm at an 'all-you-can-eat' buffet and I am hungry. Swallowing the endings before I've had a chance to take a deep breath and truly savor the beginnings. Spinning plates in the air and wondering how many I can keep, and how many I'll break. And how many will break me.

Oh, I dramatize this all, milking my own little existential crises just for the joy of prose. (These would be awfully boring postings if I didn't.) My life isn't really all this chaotic. And I have a feeling I'm not the only one going through these constant re-evaluations, this jumping back and forth between wanting to be tied down a little and wanting to cut the strings. I sort of wish I could get some confirmation from those older, successful, seemingly happy people whose lives and successes I'd like to emulate that they went through this, too. That it's normal to agonize and analyze and wonder if you're on the right path every, oh, two weeks or so. That I can be a little lost (just a little!) now but end up found at the end.

But I guess if I got that confirmation, I'd simply have to find some new, unique, all-my-own crisis to contend with. Having the same crises as the generations before you is awfully unoriginal.