I wrote a journal a few weeks before leaving Bozeman about my mindset. My departure became a complicated topic; one that sparked excitement, sadness, and even an alteration in how I’ve historically dealt with change.
I loved Bozeman, and I definitely loved the people I lived with. Of course, I was sad about leaving all that behind, but I wasn’t really sad about leaving. I looked forward to going with a full heart and a calm mind – something I’ve certainly not felt about large-scale change before. Why wasn’t I torn to shreds sad about leaving a place and people I grew to love so much?
I uncovered a lot about leaving and change. Why is it often so hard? Why do we resist change so much? How can embracing change, and maybe even deliberately increasing the rate at which I change my life, make me happier?
I discovered a lot about myself while tackling those questions. I thought that maybe there was some wisdom you could take from it as well.
Here’s some of what I wrote:
“Suddenly, it seems like I’m staring down the barrel of my end date in Bozeman. In under two weeks, I’ll be gone. Back to Des Moines for a month before jetting off to Colorado to spend the winter.
It’s hard to pin down how all this is making me feel. On one hand, I will miss my hostel mates and the relationships I’ve built. I’ll miss Bozeman and the places I’ve frequented since arriving over two months ago. On the other hand, I feel as if I understand that it is indeed time to go. I’m also extremely excited to live in Aspen and make a career move that excites me.
I guess what most weighs on my mind is how I feel about all this change… Because I feel different than I expected. I’ve changed before, I’ve moved before, and I’ve left places I loved before. But I don’t feel the same as I did before.
Maybe I’ve become accustomed to the amount of change I’ve experienced in Montana. Hostel workers came and went often, and with that change, the very culture and fabric of the hostel changed as well. Some workers came for only a few weeks, while some have been here for over a year. I’ve watched five people arrive since July, and I’ve watched six people go. Before I leave Bozeman, I’ll watch two more arrive and two more leave, and then it will be my turn.
Constant departure and arrival was the nature of my life here, and it forced me to come to terms with a life of travel being a life of change. It’s designed that way, inherent.
It’s also a double-edged sword – the constant turnover in Bozeman allowed me to meet so many new people… people I was only able to meet because someone else left a place for them. There are ones who came before me and ones that came after me. Ones that left before me, and ones that will leave after me.
The turnover elicited a weird feeling, but I’ve already gotten used to it somewhat. Each change felt like a scale model representation of moving out, going to college, leaving college, and my journey through every big life change since.
Every time a worker left, I felt grateful to have met them. Also, I felt nervous about the unknown person coming to fill their place. Soon, though, I’d meet that new person, grow to appreciate them and feel the same about their departure. The cycle continues.
I’ve chosen to live in a state of constant and exaggerated change. Most people from my graduating classes of high school and college have at least settled down in a spot where they plan to live for the next few years. I’ll live in three places this year alone. Most people my age are signing years-long leases or purchasing a home. I only know where I’ll live for the next six months.
I’m not trying to say I don’t like my situation – in fact, I love it. It’s exactly what I want. But that constant change and lack of reliable foresight is a boon for disaster if I don’t learn how to mitigate it. I want freedom, but I’ve learned that to being free requires preparation. I’ve learned to live by a simple equation:
Freedom + Preparation = Liberation
Freedom – Preparation = Chaos
I used to think freedom was doing whatever you want, when you want, with no plans to get in the way of serendipitous adventure. I thought the most free people were the ones who type B’d their way through life, allowing themselves to adventure at the drop of a hat, with nothing like PTO or apartment leases keeping them tied down. No worry about plans or schedules in their adventures, just a positive attitude and the belief that they’ll figure it out as they go.
But no. True freedom needs a baseline of planning.
Without at least some planning, freedom is a fickle thing. If you can’t plan a trip, you’ll just spend all your time on vacation wandering around a city, wondering why you’re so bored (I should know, I’ve done exactly that). If I just drove to Bozeman without any plan for housing and work, I would’ve been homeless and freezing my ass off on the side of the interstate within a night. If I hadn’t closely monitored the job postings on my shortlist of ski resorts, I wouldn’t have the freedom to live in Aspen and solidify a way out of corporate America.
Rest assured, without planning my next move vigorously, I would be forced to take another job, probably in a cubicle, and probably worse than the one I had before.
Too much planning and structure is stifling, and it limits your freedom. But the right amount of planning, in my experience, has been the catalyst for all the freedom I enjoy today.
It’s like building a house. If you can’t plan through all the permits, regulations, and legalese, you can’t build anything. But, If you can get all the prep work done and you have a vision, you’re free to build whatever you want.
I enjoy my next plan and I want to get started on it. I realized that I feel so different about this change because it’s a change that is mine. I’m not leaving because I took a “pretty good” job offer and they’re making me re-locate, I’m leaving because this is my dream. I’m not changing because I need to, I’m not going because I feel suffocated here, and I’m definitely not relishing the fact that my time is coming so soon. I’m grateful for where I am, and I’m excited for where I’m going.
I’m excited to see my parents again, meet up with old friends, and regroup before my next big move. I’m excited to take a road trip back to Des Moines where I’ll visit my favorite places, see where I’m spending the winter, and keep exploring even as everything is drawing to a close.
My job in Aspen is exciting, and it’s coming up quickly. There’s so much to do before I leave, and I’m excited for all of it. There’s the opportunity for more money, a greater career progression, and the chance to live a winter where I’m excited for the snow, the cold, and the long nights because I’m literally living on a ski resort. There’s not many more ways to make my winter amazing than that.
I’m not fully ready to turn the page away from a chapter I’ve grown so fond of reading, but, I’m excited for what’s next. And that’s a great feeling.”