A Crossroad

I was recently asked the following: "What are you passionate about in life?". This question upset me for a few reasons.

One, the person who asked me this is someone I know. Someone who knows me. I felt like they should know the answer to this question and I felt as though I was being attacked. 

Two, it took me a few minutes to come up with an answer. After I realized that this was a real question requesting a serious answer...I really had to take a minute to think. 

Three, I was very surprised by the thing that came out of my mouth.

I said things like: My Husband. My family. Work. Church. Making others happy. 

STOP. Just. Stop.

What? Who is this person and where did she come from? This is NOT me. Do I love the things I mentioned? Of course. Are they important to me? Absolutely, in the utmost regard. But I don't think that is what the person meant when they asked what I am passionate about. What's crazy is I could answer that question in a split second if you asked what my husband's passions are. Or my cousin. Or one of my closest friends. And I would be confident in my answer. So then, what about me?

Passion can be defined as "an intense desire or enthusiasm for something" (thanks Google). Some synonyms for the word passion are: eagerness, zeal, vigor, fire, energy, and spirit. 

As I reflect on this question I realize that the questioner was trying to help me, though at the time it just royally pissed me off. I have become complacent. I don't know why or when this began exactly. I do know that it probably started around the death of my Dad and upon our return to my hometown. When I say "complacent" I don't mean unhappy. I am very happy. Truthfully. My life is full of blessings and I try to note them daily. I am in love. I have a productive job. I am close to family. There is nothing to be unhappy about. The complacency I have gathered comes in the form of myself, being ok with what is. Perhaps it was part of my coping mechanism after the loss of my father and various other events from my past that have made me realize the divine nature of life. Maybe I figured that I just need to accept things as they are. The thing about it is, I don't really know. But I can't blame anyone or anything except myself. 

So, we are back at the beginning again. What am I passionate about? Well. Here's the deal. I really don't know. And that is sort of scary and it makes me sad. I know there are a lot of things I have interest in. But I don't think those are passions. I try to invest mutual interest in things my friends and family are passionate about. But those aren't mine either. I know there are things that I used to be passionate about. But with the changing of time, those are either no longer available to me, or lost my interest for whatever reason. 

It is a saddening/maddening feeling. How did I get here? And how the heck do I get out? I don't want to be someone that is not ignited by something aside from the happiness of others. I can't spend my life living vicariously through my family, my friends, my husband. 

This is a hard post for me to write and an even harder one for me to share with you. I know I am a good person. I know my abilities and talents. Admitting my weaknesses and shortcomings is difficult but I know that I have many. I know that I need to make some changes in my life for me and no one else. I hope that I can. And I hope that those of you who are finding yourselves at this same crossroad realize that you aren't alone. Forge ahead and find what it is that lights you up inside. Perhaps we will meet along the way. 

Passionately yours,

Mo