should have...

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Growing up, I had this perspective of myself. I was the one who always did what she was told. I was the one who obeyed every rule, memorized all the scripture mastery in seminary, played it safe, never got grounded (except for that one time. ONE TIME.), and basically did my best as quietly as possible to never draw attention to myself. I had no desire to even flirt with the idea of disobeying my parents. That was me. Golden child. Your parents wished I was their kid. Which I was told on more than one occasion (how horrible for my friends to hear something like that!). Something changed though. Around my third transfer in the Philippines, I started to shed some of that "golden child." It wasn't that I became disobedient all of a sudden...I just decided that I craved adventure. Sometimes all that meant was walking across a bamboo pole that served as a bridge over a disgusting, sewage filled ditch. I lived for the sense that my life wasn't absolutely sure from one day to the next. Suddenly, anything could happen, and that was like my bread and butter. 

Thankfully, coming home didn't change that. I was out all the time while I lived in California, seeing the sights, playing with friends, sneaking into apartment complexes to swim in their pools and hot tubs, night swimming in the ocean, running at the beach, running in the wetlands, running everywhere,  and really living. It was the greatest. Meeting P. didn't change that either. He loves adventure more than anyone, and never says no to any awesome things that come along. The first few months of marriage were the same. We went rock climbing, dancing (allllll the tiiiime), camping, bike riding...pretty much anything we had time for, which in the beginning, was a lot. 

I think I can blame both of our jobs for the loss of my sense of adventure (watch me not take responsibility at all). Initially, it was that P. had to work Friday and Saturday nights. I'm not great at adventuring by myself. We also only had one car at the time, and I would get home from work and just crash. You know that exhale when you've gotten home and shed all your work clothes, and you're sitting on your couch with nothing going on for the rest of the evening (was that really my life??)? That kind of crash. And I wanted nothing to do with anything else for the rest of the night. P. would get home from work and feel the same. Sometimes we'd work up the energy to go sit through a movie, but we were kaput as far as adventuring goes. Writing it out like this now makes me feel sad. It's so obvious now how the adventuring died.

Let's come full circle to where I am now. Lack of adventure=lack of activity. Lack of activity=lack of exercise. Lack of exercise=swift expansion of all of me. Ugh. Gross. I can think of so many times when I've passed up the opportunity to go somewhere or do something, and now, I'm kicking myself in the shins for not doing it. HOW MANY ADVENTURES HAVE I MISSED OUT ON?! I'm to the point where I don't care how tired I was/am. That's not an excuse, and me saying no to those kinds of activities is a contributor to my current state. Blegh. I can do better. I will do better. I can feel the stoke growing. I can feel that opportunity and adventure is coming back. You'd better believe I'll be ready for it. I never want to say, "I should have." Or, "I wish I'd..." Or, "Next time..." Ever again. When life comes knocking, I'm ready to answer. "Let's do it."

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