19-Year-Old Me Ran So 23- and 32-Year-Old Me Could Reach
And we're going to keep reaching
“That’s how you get unstuck ... you reach.” — Cheryl Strayed (Tiny Beautiful Things)
It was my year off after high school. One of the worst years of my life. The year I came close to ending it all. I was desperate to be anywhere but “here.” So desperate that I spent most of my time driving my third-generation-hand-me-down minivan. It could barely handle driving around town, let alone driving to every possible town within a 2-hour radius. I was on the hunt for my next step.
I found a small town one hour away from “here.” It was a stop-sign-only town tucked into a hillside. I walked into every business on main street asking if they were hiring. Two places were: a hardware store and a bridal boutique. The owner of the hardware store gave me an application and directed me to an apartment that was for rent above one of the shops. She gave me the number of the landlord, and the landlord was able to meet with me that day. She showed me the apartment.
It was up a fire-escape-looking stairwell on the alley side of the building. Rickety. Run down. Tiny. Dark. It looked like the crappy place in the movies where the main character is supposed to get their restart. Makes for a good story. So I went to the coffeeshop in town, sat down with my coffee, and filled out each application for a new life.
I was rejected from all of it. No experience. No credit. No options. Nowhere to run.
But I knew I was meant to get out of my hometown and do something bigger with my life. There had to be more than the cycle of pain and dissociation I was stuck in. This couldn’t be all I was meant to experience.
So I accepted a fated life of debt and enrolled in college. Two hours away from “here.”
After four years on campus, I earned my bachelors with honors, made lots of new friends, and had accomplished more than I ever imagined. I became fairly known on campus after working in dining services, the writing center, and the engineering dean’s office. While also serving as president of our chapter of a leadership society, being a member of the ballroom dance club, committing to choir every semester, and more. By the end, I was compiling the annual anthology our English department published and was revamping communications for the engineering department.
I felt like I had it all.
In a lot of ways, I did. I was finally learning what boundaries are. I was discovering my abilities and determination. There were opportunities and pathways opened to me because I reached for something more than the life I lived two hours away from there. I felt accomplished.
And yet, I also felt empty. Stagnant. Unfulfilled.
Was this the bigger life I was meant for? Was this what I was going to do with my life? Stay on the communications staff at my alma mater? It’s a respectable career and honorable level of loyalty.
But something in me knew this wasn’t where I was meant to stop. There was something else calling for me. But what? Where? How was I supposed to leave small-town Wisconsin for anything else? I was about to have student loan repayments kicking in, and rent was already hard enough. Why shouldn’t I stay at a job where I was doing well? How would I keep growing and discovering who I was supposed to be?
There was more out there for me, and I would never know if I didn’t try. This job and this campus will always be there if I tried and failed at whatever I did next. I had to go.
So I accepted a marketing job in the next state over. Three hours away from there. Five hours away from the “here” I refused to return to.
After five years in the new city, I sat on the roof of my apartment building looking at the skyline, and I debated everything. I saw the buildings that had grown to feel like home. The rivers that helped me breathe and plant my feet in a city that grabbed hold of me. I had worked my way up in the corporate world, earned local and national marketing awards, built up a poetry community, published a book, and was working towards my masters.
I felt like I had it all.
In a lot of ways, I did. I was confident in my boundaries and abilities. I was starting to believe in bigger possibilities. There were opportunities waiting for me because I did the therapy work to start healing and dreaming. I reached for a life fuller than the one I lived five hours away from there. I felt accomplished again.
And yet, I also still felt empty. Stagnant. Unfulfilled.
Was this the bigger life I was meant for? Was corporate where I needed to be? Was I supposed to keep working my way up the ladder that kept knocking me back down?
There was something else calling for me. This time, I knew what it was. I had been ignoring its call for five years. But how was I supposed to leave a secure life for a creative one? I had debt and bills to pay. Why shouldn’t I stay in a career that was supporting me? How would I keep growing though? Would I ever fully feel like myself?
There was more out there for me. I knew it. I had to try. Otherwise, it would be another five years of depression, wondering, and keeping myself in place. Marketing will always be there. I had to go.
So I accepted a poetic life in the same city. Five minutes away from that rooftop. Three hours away from the “there” I left behind. Five hours away from the “here” I still refused to return to.
Now, three years into life as a full-time poet, I sit in my studio apartment admiring the way it feels like my home. Appreciating the way I feel like my fullest self. Reflecting on all I have accomplished and become over the years. I now have several books, have multiple accolades, am the director of a national poetry slam, am a leader in the poetry community, have earned my masters, had a successful 15-month tour, and have a solid circle of trusted loved ones.
I feel like I have it all.
In a lot of ways, I do. I am confident in who I am and understand more about how to help myself exist in this world. I believe in myself despite the hard days. There are opportunities I’ve had that I could’ve never dreamed of.
I no longer feel empty. I feel fulfilled.
And yet, I’m starting to feel stagnant.
Where do I go from here? I know there’s still more that I’m meant for. I am doing what I was meant to do. But there’s something more calling for me. I just don’t know what it is yet. How am I supposed to change a life I’ve carefully created? Or leave a city that’s felt like home? A community I’ve poured my heart into? What’s next for those things and for me? I know this stage of life isn’t where I’m meant to stay forever. I have to keep growing and learning. I have to keep stepping further into my full self.
I didn’t come this far to stop here. The rejections at 19 got me to college. The experiences I had on campus got me to my adult life in a new state. The growth I had in my corporate era got me to this poet life. Now, we will find out where this poet life was meant to get me next.
I will keep reaching. I have to.
“There’s a Poem In That” is honored to be a part of the Iowa Writer’s Collaborative alongside some of my favorite writers of all genres in Iowa. Please be sure to check out the Roundup of columns and subscribe to these brilliant creatives.
Those who continue to reach inspire those comfortable in stasis.
Thank you
"But there’s something more calling for me. I just don’t know what it is yet." Keep listening to your heart and your soul. And keep reaching...you will go far!