Waiting for my bus

Lately I’ve been thinking about the fact that I don’t really know what I want to do with my life. I’ve had this issue for a long while now, and it comes to the front of my brain pan every so often. I know this problem is not unique to me, but that fact does not bring me comfort, solace or even motivation.

It feels as though I’ve been sitting at a bus stop, patiently (and sometimes not so) waiting for the one I need to get on. I sit there watching other buses roll by. Some of them stop and I see other people get on, eager to be on the way to their destinations. Meanwhile I sit there, not knowing which is mine or the destination to which I should be headed for. Maybe I should have pulled out an atlas or an old treasure map before I sat down.

Part of this problem stems from fear of failure. If I try something and don’t do well at it, then how could I possibly excel? I also yearn to be innately good at a task or thing so that I can incorporate it into my life and use it as my compass. Sadly, I’m not good at that many things (or at least it feels that way). Then again, I haven’t tried all the things that are out there for a person to do. Perhaps I’d be a natural at underwater spot welding, noodling or competitive jump roping.

I guess I should just keep plugging away, trying new and different things out, but also giving them a fair chance before deciding I suck at them. You can’t be a great noodler without getting out in the muck and shoving your fist in a fish’s mouth more than once, right? I think I also need more gratitude for the things I do have in my life: a stable job, friends, a healthy child and a very, very supportive wife.

Who knows, maybe my bus has been sitting in front of me the whole time, and I’ve just been too ignorant or lazy to see it. The driver has been yelling expletives and waving at me to come aboard to take my seat.  If I don’t change my behavior, how could I possibly expect things to change for me?