Taking Life with Chances

On the heels of the last entry, I’ve been sitting with the idea of what it means to feel settled.

At first, it seems like an easy question. Routine. The stability of a home and a job. Some sort of social life. All the obvious markers.

But the thing is — I’ve had those things before.

So if I was “settled” then, why did it still feel unsettling? What was missing? What was I chasing?

When I really start drilling down on what I think would make me feel settled, it almost stresses me out. Routines, for example. In theory, they sound grounding. In practice, they can quickly start to feel like obligations. If they aren’t done perfectly, everything falls apart and I abandon them altogether.

I’m trying to figure out how to allow for routines that have some fluidity — ones that leave room for life to move without everything going to shit the moment it deviates from the plan.

Then there’s work. And people. I have a tendency to overcommit in both. I throw myself into things — professionally and socially — and before I realize it, that overcommitment turns into exhaustion. And somehow, isolation.

As I write this, I’m still processing these thoughts. I don’t have clarity yet. I’m not sure “settled” is even the right word.

Maybe the word is happiness.

Or maybe the real question is simpler — what actually makes me happy?

It may sound silly to be trying to better understand what makes me tick at this stage of life, but here I am. Lately, I’ve started writing a simple journal entry each night. Nothing complicated. Just a few questions I ask myself:

How did I feel about the day?
What was I pleased with?
Did anything stand out?
Would I do anything differently?

I don’t know where it leads yet. I just know I’m paying attention.