Its Okay That I'm Not The One Going to India

Ever since Jacob and I got back from New Orleans, we have listened to nothing but Louis Armstrong's greatest hits. Something about that trumpet and those mellow lyrics have captured us. We are still high from feeling the wind tangle through our hair as we tipped our heads out the windows of the streetcars. It truly is a mesmerizing city, one of mystery and intoxicating creepiness. I feel evermore connected to Jacob and thrilled that we are making the memories we want to make with each other.  

When we arrived in the city, it was pouring rain and hot, and I can get kind of nasty when I'm hot. We were lugging our suit cases from this bus to that street car and trying to find our hotel after sleeping only an hour the night before while also dodging other people on bustling Canal Street. Both of us were tired, and both of us stepped in toxic-looking puddles several times between the bus to the hotel. 

And then finally we made it. We both crashed in the hotel for what we thought would be a power nap but that actually turned into three-hours of luxurious rest. When we woke up, we decided to order pizza and see what we felt like doing afterwards. I felt pressure to see everything and do everything in a city with so much history and reputation, but I forced myself to listen to my body and what Jacob and I wanted to do instead of what we "should" do. This "see what we feel like doing" would not have been O.K. with me in the past. I would have insisted that we stick to our power nap plan and then run ourselves ragged pounding pavement into the night so we could see everything. This moment in New Orleans, when I valued Jacob's and my desires over what I felt pressured to do, was a victory for me. 

Several summers ago, I went to china with a group of graduate students to teach English for a month. Three of them were hardcore travelers with agendas for continuing on through China after our teaching month was over. At some point during that month, one of my fellow teachers explained this phenomenon of feeling intense pressure to do and see everything, which can turn into a serious source of stress. She called it F.O.M.O. or Fear of Missing Out. I'm not sure if that is her name for it or it's official name, but it made a lot of sense. I had never heard of it before but knew instantly that I suffered from it. I was always wishing I was somewhere else or that I was the one going to India. F.O.M.O. has lead me to frustration and ignoring  the countless joys in my life. It made me forget all the wonderful things I had going for me. I was going to graduate school. I was working and able to live comfortably. I had friends and a fabulous boyfriend at the time. Still, I wanted to be the one with the picture of myself drinking red wine on a Greek island. 

Recently, I have focused on showing gratitude for what I have in my life and appreciating the experiences others get to have. I know now that I can make anything happen in my life, and it is up to me to do it. This has lead to careful consideration of what Jacob and I actually want in life and in each situation. It turns out, most of the things I so desperately wanted are not actually that important to me. And, this has made it possible to do the things that are. 

I am continuing to challenge myself to make the memories that I want to make and not the memories that someone else or the world says I should make. I am reminding myself that every day of life is memory-worthy, good or bad. Watching insane lightning shows on the front porch or listening to the neighbor outline his idea for a celebrity-studded public radio show, all of it is memory-worthy because it is a part of the life Jacob and I have designed. 

I still fall into F.O.M.O. sometimes. I still get frustrated. It is a work in progress, but I think it is a worthy one.