Monday, October 22, 2018

A Six-Month Gut Check

It's been six months since I made my big jump to Nashville, and I feel compelled to share a truth.

Let's get this out of the way, I love Nashville. From my cozy little apartment, to the people I encounter on a daily basis, everything about the lifestyle here makes me happy. But I've been in a bit of lull. And I admit that openly here in the hopes that you can relate, or help, or share your experiences. Being vulnerable is the new strong! It's also quite therapeutic to write about the things that plague your mind. 

So here's how this lull can be best described: Driving down the road, I approach a crossroads that presents me with a choice between two directions. If I go left, I'm told that I will be on the safe, comfortable, and familiar route. "This way!" the signs read. "You already know the way, the road is steady, and you won't have to encounter anything new or unexpected." The other direction is a road with limited visibility, and there are all kinds of warning signs that read, "At your own risk!" "This path is unfamiliar, and the outcome is unknown!"

Every time I get to this crossroads, I stop for a little while longer. Something about going right makes me curious. It represents desires, dreams and ambitions; it represents possibility and opportunity, and a little bit of danger (in a good way). But still, at every crossroads, I go left.

You don't really have to ask me why, do you? The safe route is just easier. After all, what if I go right and something bad happens? 

When I interpret that description, it's very clear that the signs represent messages from my fear. They are fear's way of telling me that the dream in my heart is too big, too scary, and might yield rejection.

I can't be all that angry; it's fear's job to protect me from dangerous, life-threatening situations. But rejection, while extremely unsettling, is not the end of the world, and sometimes even your fear needs a strong shot of honesty.

Better buckle up. It's time to point the wheels in a new direction.

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Livin' might mean takin' chances
But they're worth takin'