Adventurous Introvert.
My life could be summed up with a plethora of paradoxical statements like this. Always dreaming of adventure yet terrified when the opportunity comes along - that's me.
Homeschooled from first through twelfth grade, passionate about all things book-related, and a naturally shy person, the label "introvert" has been easily slapped on me since I was six. Even among friends, I can feel out-of-place.
Happily married for ten years and being an English teacher at a boarding school for troubled teens for seven years felt like two of the biggest adventures I could ever undertake. My husband is as extroverted as they come and lives life with freeing fullness. He inspires me every day. Teaching was away to inspire young minds and be a positive role model for future generations.
I recently decided to make this summer my last one teaching and try my hand at something new. The desire to try new things and go new places became so strong, I couldn't stand it. But the fear has been steadily growing: what am I going to do now? Teaching is my degree. Teaching has been my life, my identity since I graduated college in 2007. Now, nearly ten years later, I feel an insatiable wanderlust.
Then last week, my friend wanted to do something exciting to celebrate the beginning of her 30s and asked a group of us to bridge jump with her. This is something I've always wanted to do but have always been too scared to try, the perfect metaphor for my life. I drove my husband out to meet everyone, knowing I would watch like always. After two jumps, two of my friends came over and encouraged me to jump. I gave the usual response: "I'm too scared." And then my friend said, "But you know when you get home, you're going to regret it." And I came to the realization that I'm tired of watching life pass by, tired of being an observer of life instead of a participant, tired of, as Meg Ryan so aptly put it in "You've Got Mail,": "So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book when shouldn't it be the other way around?"
So I jumped.
It was easily the most terrifying, most freeing thing I've ever done in my life.
Climbing up on that railing, looking down at the moonlight shining on the water below felt so metaphorical: This is what life is - a climb, looking fearfully at your future, wondering what it holds and how you'll get there and who you'll be when you emerge from it. And feeling my feet leave the protective railing, jumping from the known safety of what had been into the unknown perfectly sums up where I am in life.
And then somewhere in feeling gravity take over and my descent, life stood still for just a moment. Exhilaration, euphoria, a delightfully free feeling of flying. Maybe making yourself jump is the hardest part.
I felt the water wash over me and began my ascent. As my head broke the surface, I heard the cheers of my friends and looked up at the full moon. Fullness. Happiness. Contentment. Renewal.
2016 is my year to live - to stop watching the dance and join in, to stop putting off adventures, new recipes, friendships, and experiences, to take that leap of faith because I don't know what tomorrow may bring and who knows when I'll get the chance again?
I only pass this way once.
