I feel a little like the dog that chased the bus and caught it. He had been chasing it so long; once he got it, he had no idea what to do with it, save for to hang on.
When I got so sick, just over five years ago, my life got turned upside down. It was going along swimmingly (or so I thought) when all of a sudden I found myself in the hospital as a patient for the first time in my life and not really sure if I was coming back out. Spoiler alert: I got out.
This started a long recovery for me, which culminated at the exact midpoint of my Camino, as I wrote about in “I’m Back, Now With a Master’s Degree.” During that five-year period, I literally changed everything about my life. I abruptly ended my profession and sold the only business that I would ever build; I said goodbye to my staff who were like family; I read books, studied, and did all I could to learn about my body and how to help it heal itself. I applied what I learned, spending at least three hours every day to restore my health.
In essence, I was that dog. Eyes locked in on that rapidly moving bus, legs moving gracefully beneath me, heart pumping so hard, never losing sight of that bus. I had no idea what I would do when I caught it. I hadn’t even considered what my life may be like with full health. And then, I caught it. I am holding on for dear life to that bus, but I am at a loss as to what to do now.
I know this sounds weird, and please understand, it is not a complaint by any stretch. It is an observation and a strange, new paradigm for me. I have now had several months of being back to “normal,” whatever that is. Honestly, I feel a bit disoriented. Previously, I had purpose each morning to apply what I learned and follow my protocol religiously each day. Once I was done (usually around noon), I could pursue other interests or do yard work. Each day would end about the same way at about the same time. I would start saying my goodnights early on, and usually in bed by 8:00 or 8:30. This definitely puts a crimp on any social plans.
After I started feeling like I was making progress towards my recovery, I planned my pilgrimage. Once that was planned, I began my training. I prepared for just over a year, walking, testing out shoes, clothing, and blister care. Preparing for the Camino became my identity and my obsession. I loved it. I walked hundreds of miles in training and went through a couple of pairs of shoes. I got a new backpack and made arrangements to buy the hiking poles once I arrived in France. I read books, watched hours of videos, and finally felt as prepared as I could be.
Now that it is completed, there is a little emptiness in my days. I find myself mowing or tinkering around the yard in ways that I haven’t before. By the way, our yard looks amazing.
For the first time since before the pandemic, I stayed up to watch the fireworks on Independence Day. This may not seem like a big deal to most of you, as even little kids stay up to watch the fireworks. Yes, but little kids are not single-mindedly focused on chasing that bus like I was.
I have also gone to three beautiful weddings in the last few months, staying up late like a normal person and dancing like a fool. There are no pictures to prove it, but I have used one from the “Oops I Forgot My Pants” party in college (No pants were allowed). Again, it is not a big deal for most people to stay up late and have fun at a wedding, but I can’t tell you how foreign it seems to me.
So, here I am back to normal, though this time I feel disoriented. I have learned so much about my body and how it works. I have a greater understanding of health and longevity. I know more about the hundreds of biomarkers that can help warn of disease or disorders. I am walking, rucking, and spending time in the physical activities I enjoy without thinking about how much or how long I do them. I no longer need to ration my limited activity like I used to.
I know this post is a little more self-reflective than most, and as I have mentioned before, you are privy to my inner thoughts and dialogue, with very little filter. This makes me vulnerable, which I don’t mind, especially if my vulnerability is the least bit helpful to someone else. I believe that we are here to help one another.
I have concluded the long season of suffering and have entered a new season, a season for which I have never experienced. We are empty nesters; I am retired, and I am healthy. So now, I have what I have always been looking forward to: freedom and time. When I envisioned retirement in my twenties, it felt so elusive and ethereal, as if it would never be my reality. My ideas of what it would be like were much more self-focused and immature, as you may expect from a twenty-something.
Just like I was for that first year after coming out of the hospital, I will be patient and see how things unfold for a year. When it came to my health, this was a big mistake, but I had never been sick before, so I didn’t have a clue as to what to do. I don’t feel the need to fill my time with pointless activity or part-time work to feel like I have purpose. I know I have purpose; God told me as much along The Way. I just need to figure out how best to apply it.
I am young. I have time. And I have enough wisdom to know that my purpose is not solely recreation or self-serving. So, dear reader, you will have to bear with me as I figure out how to live this new season. This outlet has been and continues to be my working laboratory of ideas and thought; you happen to be along for the ride. As long as there is an interest, Brian on Purpose will continue to evolve at the same pace I do.