Have you heard of destination addiction? I have fallen prey to this. The next place, the next job, the next partner. Happiness will be there. Not where I am. In my twenties, this addiction was more apparent. I was changing cities, careers, and boyfriends. Always searching for the better fit. Always feeling unsettled.
In my later years, I still have existential questions. But changing so called “destinations” happens on a less significant scale: Do I keep writing or take up painting? Do I dedicate myself to yoga or weight lifting? Do I volunteer or work part time? Will one decision or the other bring me more contentment? Obviously, these are less critical issues. I am blessed to be in such a position.
But still, am I living my best life? Am I happy about this one? These questions feel indulgent but just as relevant as in my early years.
As my life transforms, I have more time and less distractions to think. I still wonder whether I’m comfortable in my own skin and not just seeking the outside world to be content. The truth is, I think it’s mostly the latter. I seek out experiences, accomplishments, and dates with friends. Being alone and motionless for too long makes me fidgety. I think I have to "work on that." Or maybe just listen deeply to the needs longing to be met.
Destination addiction may never stop. I think that’s okay. I’m comforted with what Oliver Delorie wrote in his book, Wabi Sabi, “Nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.” That truth includes me.