I was left behind. How it happened, I'm not sure.
Traveling along in my life minding my own business trying to live up to my responsibilities and expectations, and it happened.
The alarm on my iPhone started singing Fell on Black Days by Soundgarden. I laid there and listened to the words cuz I wasn't ready to face another day of the same shit. On a side note, I find it strange I can sing the correct lyrics to thousands of songs yet I never listen to the words. Anyway, I just woke up one day (a generic Thursday, I think) after 100s of days in a row of waking up after completing the same tasks as I had completed the day before. Faceless people I loiter with call it, the "same ol' same ol '". I was just shuffling along with the rest of the cattle heading toward the feed trough one day and I woke up. I woke up.
This can't be my life? You know, the one that was going to set the world on fire, amass riches beyond comprehension, cure cancer. That life. I stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the light. I looked into the mirror and saw a person I didn't even recognize, the reflection of some total stranger was standing in my bathroom looking back at me. It was uncomfortable seeing this man I didn't know. The man I had become. What happened? Where was I while this metamorphosis took place?
I knew the answers before my clouded mind could generate the questions. Depression would be the medical term, I suppose, if I were to see a doctor. Surely, he would write a perscription for some sort of emotion balancing chemical. You know, the kind that has more crippling side effects than curative medicinal qualities. Doctors are great this way, if you have an ailment or even the thought of an ailment then they have a script for you. And then they will kindly offer curative measures for the side effects. It's an endless cycle of perscriptions, dosage adjustments, and doctor's visits, temporary symptomatic Band-aids.
My problem probably could have been altered with one of these "happy pills", but my problem didn't need a Band-aid laced with a side effect. I needed to change what society, the government, my job, my community and my family had asked me to become. What I had allowed myself to become. I needed to make ME right.
I found it in reading, learning and experiencing travel. I burst my own bubble and stepped outside the lines. And felt young again. I may not cure cancer or die with the most toys, but I promised myself something better, a full life. And I'm living that promise.
I was wondering, can you say the same about yourself?
Email me at thetravelvalet@gmail.com or contact me through this blog or http://www.thetravelvalet.com/ if you would like your reflection to represent the real you.
Happy Travel,
Al, the Travel Valet
Did You Know? The Ancient Greeks didn't pray or give eulogies at burials. They only asked one question when they buried their dead. Did he live with passion?
Traveling along in my life minding my own business trying to live up to my responsibilities and expectations, and it happened.
The alarm on my iPhone started singing Fell on Black Days by Soundgarden. I laid there and listened to the words cuz I wasn't ready to face another day of the same shit. On a side note, I find it strange I can sing the correct lyrics to thousands of songs yet I never listen to the words. Anyway, I just woke up one day (a generic Thursday, I think) after 100s of days in a row of waking up after completing the same tasks as I had completed the day before. Faceless people I loiter with call it, the "same ol' same ol '". I was just shuffling along with the rest of the cattle heading toward the feed trough one day and I woke up. I woke up.
This can't be my life? You know, the one that was going to set the world on fire, amass riches beyond comprehension, cure cancer. That life. I stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the light. I looked into the mirror and saw a person I didn't even recognize, the reflection of some total stranger was standing in my bathroom looking back at me. It was uncomfortable seeing this man I didn't know. The man I had become. What happened? Where was I while this metamorphosis took place?
I knew the answers before my clouded mind could generate the questions. Depression would be the medical term, I suppose, if I were to see a doctor. Surely, he would write a perscription for some sort of emotion balancing chemical. You know, the kind that has more crippling side effects than curative medicinal qualities. Doctors are great this way, if you have an ailment or even the thought of an ailment then they have a script for you. And then they will kindly offer curative measures for the side effects. It's an endless cycle of perscriptions, dosage adjustments, and doctor's visits, temporary symptomatic Band-aids.
My problem probably could have been altered with one of these "happy pills", but my problem didn't need a Band-aid laced with a side effect. I needed to change what society, the government, my job, my community and my family had asked me to become. What I had allowed myself to become. I needed to make ME right.
I found it in reading, learning and experiencing travel. I burst my own bubble and stepped outside the lines. And felt young again. I may not cure cancer or die with the most toys, but I promised myself something better, a full life. And I'm living that promise.
I was wondering, can you say the same about yourself?
Email me at thetravelvalet@gmail.com or contact me through this blog or http://www.thetravelvalet.com/ if you would like your reflection to represent the real you.
Happy Travel,
Al, the Travel Valet
Did You Know? The Ancient Greeks didn't pray or give eulogies at burials. They only asked one question when they buried their dead. Did he live with passion?
I hope you can make you right, do what you need to do for you to fix it regardless of the perceived cost. Ultimately, your friends and family will understand those decisions.
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