Yesterday, I was driving on I-70, home from a visit to Hopkins to have my eyeballs checked. There is a sign on I-70 that states the mileage distance to a few places, such as Denver, CO and its ultimate end, 2,200 miles away in Cove Fort, UT. Seeing the sign reminded me of how I had always romanticized about driving cross country. National Lampoon's Vacation-style. Stopping at all the cheesy tourist attractions. Meeting interesting people and having enlightening adventures along the way. I even seriously considered doing this many years ago when my friend, Rachel, lived in Salt Lake City. An odyssey. A cathartic experience. A character-builder. Then, yesterday...while romanticizing...I remembered how much I hate being in the car.
I have experienced the same realization about hiking. I went through a phase, post-college, where I wanted to hike the entire Appalachian Trail. I saw a documentary following several people who did just that and even followed an early version of a blog from a woman who hiked the trail and while hiking, she would write letters and send them to a friend, who then posted them online. I was fascinated. Mesmerized. This hiking adventure would change my life. Make me more interesting. Challenge me. Then I went hiking and realized that after about an hour...there was no way I could spend 6 months of my life hiking all day, everyday. I would be miserable.
When I was a little girl, I think I fantasized from time to time about being a patient in a hospital. I can tell you today, from experience now...there is nothing fantastic about being a patient. (Well, OK...having a call button...and people waiting on you has some perks...but it does get old after an hour or 2). I also fantasized about being a teacher...and I still remember, with stark clarity, the moment that fantasy became reality as I wrote my name across the blackboard at Cluster Springs Elementary School. And, you know what, I hated it. I was not made for teaching.
What does all this say about me? Am I delusional? Foolishly optimistic? Pathetically un-self-aware? I don't know. I don't even know where I am going with this. Ha ha. All I know is that fantasy and reality are often two very different things. Wig shopping...not so fantastic. Shaving your head...nah...not that great. Being unemployed and financially supported by another...well...OK...it definitely can be nice. But, if my option was to be employed and not have cancer, I'd choose employment every time. And I hate working. That is how much I hate cancer more. Ha ha.
Anyway...I just felt like writing. And so I did. Reading back over it, I sound pretty down. Maybe I am. But, it is temporary. It always is. In fact, I think that usually when I feel the pity train pulling in the station...it is a sign that the pity train will be moving on very soon and I will be back to fighting with a smile. Stay tuned for a health update...I know it's a bit overdue.
No comments:
Post a Comment