Limbo

You know, there is a dead zone between reality and perception and I think a lot of us get stuck in that crazy place for years at a time.

My life has always been defined by an undercurrent of needing "more". While in university, I convinced myself that I wasn't traveling enough. Life experiences were passing me by. I felt that completing my formal education was interfering with more meaningful endeavours like backpacking my way across Europe. In my head, there was something noble and enlightened about surviving on Ramen noodles for months and canceling my car insurance in order to buy a week's trip to Jamaica. I believed that travel ranked right up there with food and clothing on the necessity scale of personal development and thus, the perception of being limited by the financial burden of my student status fueled my discontent for nearly five years.

The reality of that situation was a bit different. While studying for finals, I got an itch for McDonald's seasoned curly fries, which had recently debuted and were hopelessly addicting. I threw my unwashed hair into a ponytail, shrugged on a sweatshirt (no bra) and grabbed my car keys. I had been existing on coffee and nicotine and hadn't seen the inside of a shower in at least twenty four hours. I'm sure I could have peeled wallpaper with my breath.

In my quest for fries, everything was normal until I got into the turning lane for the drive thru. I glanced into my rear view mirror just in time to see a half ton truck bearing down on my little shitbox that four waiters could lift up and move (true story). I braced myself and two seconds later, I was slammed from behind and pushed fifteen feet into a truck in front of me.

I got out of the car, dazed, and with relief, I saw that the damage didn't appear to be too bad....until I walked around to the passenger side (feet freezing in my flip flops) and saw that the passenger door looked like someone had taken a boulder to it. The door wouldn't open. And damn, it was cold. Besides my feet, I could feel a breeze coming in from the hole in the right cheek of my sweatpants where I had caught them on a fence after a boozy softball game the previous summer. I crossed my arms over my chest and with horror, remembered that I hadn't corralled the girls before leaving the apartment. So there I was, standing beside my crumpled car, in the cold, no proper shoes, no make up, smelly, braless AND WITHOUT INSURANCE.

Excellent.

Let's just say that my perception of where insurance ranked on my totem pole of priorities, shifted that day. For the next year, my reality became working extra hours to pay the thousands of dollars that the accident had cost me. I never once gave travel a second thought for the rest of my university years.

So today, as I grab hold of the crystal ball demanding answers, I am aware that my indecision is fueled by the sheer vastness of that gray area that exists between perception and reality. Age might give you maturity, patience and logic but it is not entirely immune to the messages of one's youth. Occasionally, mine still whisper velvet notes of inadequacy, licking the edges of my insecurities and rendering me immobile with the fear of failure.

And even as I force myself to ignore those taunts, the thought that flits across my belly is, "what if I am wrong?".