I was in my transitional 20’s when I created this blog. I was learning how to be a grown-up. I screwed up a lot. I felt like I was always starting over. Always starting from square one. That’s where the “squared” came from.
I still feel that way, but now I relish in it. I’m so thrilled that I am not defined by my past, that every day I get to start from scratch, that I am free from the confines of my yesterdays. Starting over (and over and over) is no longer a daunting task; a testament to my failure. It’s a clean, clear, flawless opportunity for perfection that I will undoubtedly annihilate. Which is totally okay, of course. It just means I get to relish in the newness of tomorrow all over again.
I took a leave from my blog because I was forced into one of those shiny new beginnings. It’s not my story to share, and I’ve yet to receive permission to share it, but in that time I became an expert at becoming an expert in Myself. I took up hobbies. I re-learned to have fun. I discovered that I forgot how to have that fun in the first place. I quit casually drinking as my only form of entertainment and realized that it served just as a temporary fix to what I really craved; adventure.
As my 30th birthday came and went, adventure became my redirected craving. Finding adventure proved a little bit trickier. I’m broke, I’m obligated, I’m responsible. True adventure is an elusive little beast. I imagined it only took place on the top of high cliffs or in airplanes or deep under the sea. I assumed it wasn’t for the average layperson. I figured I’d always be dissatisfied, craving what I could not have.
But once I gave it a label, that longing I had simply ignored or drank away, adventure started popping up everywhere. Nursing our sick betta fish back to health became a divine adventure. Doctoring a creature of God became majestic and meaningful. Expressing my opinions in public became an adventure; a rush I hadn’t experienced before. Forming new, ever-changing opinions is an adventure in itself. Coloring my hair, adding in some blue, another adventure. Trying new foods, painting my nails, sampling new music. Adventure, adventure, adventure. Hiking was a more obvious and highly enjoyable new adventure. Mending relationships was a difficult and deeply satisfying adventure. In the last 7 months I have spent the majority of my time seeking a new adventure, and I have always found one. It has been awesome.
My newest adventure addiction is running. Jordon and I rang in our shared 30th birthday running from eerily convincing zombies in a 5k zombie dash which wasn’t nearly adventurous enough. So I signed my ass up for a half marathon in May, 2013. I’m going to own that bitch.
I went for a run the other night, around the track at the end of the street. Sitting at the end of the track, beckoning adventure of a more mischievous kind, sat two teens, sharing a joint as dusk set in. Every other lap I could smell it. It made me giggle knowing that they were so clueless to the obviousness of their shenanigans. Or maybe the giggling was a contact high. Either way, I realized that for the first time since I became that responsible young adult, I wasn’t jealous of them. Not of their freedom, not of their rebellion. Running gives me that whenever I want it. Rebelling against what my body thinks it is capable of gives me a very tangible, very real high. Overruling the desire to quit makes me feel more powerful than any substance. The survival instinct, adrenaline, pain, and discomfort dissipate my stress and worries more effectively and more long term than anything else I’ve tried. Running is my favorite adventure.
Hi, I’m Kelsey and I’m 30 and I’m adventurous and I’m free and I’m starting over. (Again.)