Who's driving the bus?

“Every lesson learned, a line upon your beautiful face”

 The word “adaptable” has been popping up often for me lately. Like when you are thinking of getting a yellow car and then all you see are yellow cars. I don’t often mention my life as a military spouse, but this brain dump is something that will likely resonate with anyone who has moved around often. The question burning a hole in my forehead lately: Have I become too adaptable?

Truth is, I was living quite the transient life prior to becoming an Air Force wife. After dropping out of college (the first time), I packed up and drove to Minnesota where I waited tables at the Olive Garden for six months or so, then moved back to Texas. I just wanted to see what the world was like outside of college. I wanted to see if I could support myself. I was 20 years old. I did it, and then it was done. I’ve never been one to learn lessons or take advice in theory…. I need to experience it - dive headfirst into the unknown and come out the other end bruised, tired, wiser, full of stories and knowledge that my future self would sometimes tap into. Sometimes not.

A life full of transitions can be hard to grasp on to. You find yourself floating in and out of friendships, unsure of which ones to feed, allowing the “why bother” thoughts to creep in. Treading water desperately searching for a buoy to hold on to. Wherever you go, there you are.

I do this mental exercise where I try to picture all the bathrooms and showers from places I’ve lived. I’m not sure why the bathrooms specifically, but it seems to be the most unique thing about a lot of living spaces. It’s also the room we are most vulnerable in. How many good cries and breakdowns have you had in your bathroom? Yeah. That. I go all the way back to the pale blue tiles that lined the bathroom walls of my childhood home. The busy flowered wallpaper in the bathroom at our second family home. The endless cold and institutional dorm room bathrooms and community showers. After remembering dozens (and dozens) of various bathrooms I just let out a big exhale and understand why I’m so tired sometimes.

My survival mantra has always been “I figure things out and make shit happen”. There’s an excitement to redefining yourself in a new city, scrolling through job listings, seeing what new opportunities call out to you. I’ve been through this process enough to know what comes next though. As predictable as it is, it still sucks a bit. The novelty and the newness quickly wear off, rose colored glasses are gone, and there you are. The same you. No magic mirrors. Habits (good and bad) follow you. I am the same “me” wherever I go. Granted there are a few degrees of wiggle room in either direction, but the pendulum stubbornly swings back to where it’s most comfortable. I’ve learned to find comfort in the eventual settling of the pendulum though. I dial in to a deeper level of self-love each time I go through this cycle. Like the teddy bear I’ve been dragging around with me the past 25 years. It’s home.

Is being too adaptable a thing? When living your life ‘one foot in and one foot out’ becomes the norm, the thought of settling somewhere in between can be terrifying. When decisions about where you will move next have not been in your control, the thought of being responsible for that choice is a bit overwhelming. What happens when that skill is no longer needed? What feelings and emotions step up to drive the bus for you after adaptation takes a backseat?

I don’t think our snow-globe will be settling for a few years, but I’m learning to not fear the moment it does. Always an adventure. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.  

Why do we hurtle ourselves 
Through every inch of time and space? 
I must say around some corner 
I can sense a restin' place 
With every lesson learned 
A line upon your beautiful face 
We'll amuse ourselves one day 
With these memories we'll trace 

 -Get Out the Map, Amy Elizabeth Ray / Emily Ann Saliers (Indigo Girls)