i wish i came with a manual

i need some direction.

in fact, i need A LOT of direction. and the lack of direction i have, i'm certain is driven by the lack of focus i have which is driven by my ever so increasing attention deficit in regards to personal interests and career goals. all of which could possibly be traced back to the fact that i don't really know what it is that i am most passionate.

i used to think i knew. you know, back in the day when i was always angry about some injustice in the church, workplace, family or greater midwest region in which i was so familiar. but that was when i only had a handful of things to get me all roweled up.

now ... i seem to have become an expert in the area of intolerance. as i've seen more of the world, met more of the world's citizens and expanded my net of knowledge, my interest for solving all the world's problems has actually become diluted and my soul prerogative seems to have changed to ridding the world of stupidity, disrespect and apathy. (thus, i have become a part of the problem i have identified and not the solution)

as i sit in my windowless office, drinking what is the poorest excuse for coffee since the break room coffee pot at my previous job, i find myself at a very real and terrifying cross-road.

a point where a part of me still believes i was made to do something significant ... that i(we) was actually created for greatness ... to contribute uniquely to the world ... to change the course of human history by creating a future worth stepping into.

there is a less child-like part of me who, in her mature and unyielding realism, reminds her less grown up self that there are plenty of other people out there who are much more talented, brilliant, qualified, ambitious, passionate, intentional, etc. than they will ever be. and even if i did choose something in which to devote my life, who's to say that i would be the right person for the job? (says the antagonistic mature self)

the crazy part about this whole situation (other than yours truly), is that i have lost (or perhaps never had) a real sense of purpose. i don't have that "one thing" that i've wanted to do since i was 4.(i feel like i've said this before and i'm a bit disappointed things haven't progressed in this area)

i've been reading anne lamott's book bird by bird. good stuff ... you should read it. i came across a few passages that were particularly intriguing:

"you can see the underlying essence only when you strip away the busyness and then some surprising connections appear." i can see how this would be helpful in my current situation. however, i've always equated busyness with productivity. and so long as i'm busy ... even if i'm busy doing nothing of real value ... i feel like i'm achieving SOMETHING. kind-of annoying since those are exactly the types of people i am so easily frustrated by on a daily basis.

but then she says something else that was perhaps even more poignant than the last excerpt:

"you can't compare your insides to other people's outsides."

hm. and that's where i have to leave you. because really, all this confusion and mass chaos coexisting in my small little brain, has come down to one thing: expectations.

and this idea that perhaps all of my spastic decisions to involve myself in a little of everything as opposed to a few things that i would die for is all based on the premise of the perceived expectations i feel have been placed on my life. and to put it plainly, it has led me not to a path of deeply felt accomplishment or ambition, but rather to an ever mounting dissatisfaction in the land of never-good-enough.

which i'm tired of. and i know you're tired of hearing about. so we're going to work on that. and hopefully begin to build some more realistic expectations for my life and my life's work.

one step at a time ...