Why I Can’t Stay Still Anymore
I Have a Confession to Make
I’ve always felt a few steps behind.
I’ve avoided conversations that felt too big for me, hiding in the safety of small talk. I’ve steered away from dreams because they didn’t seem “traditional” for someone with my upbringing. I’ve missed out on opportunities because I decided the room was too big for me before I even entered it. I’ve stayed quiet because the vocabulary of others intimidated me.
But not anymore.
Where I Was – Childhood & Small Town Life
I loved my childhood. Swimming in lukewarm ponds in the middle of summer. Scratching gravel dust from my eyes after four-wheeler rides with my brothers. Treasure hunting — not for gold, but for anything on the ground that might have critters hiding under it. There were no screens outside of the morning news, no permissions to ask for before disappearing outside until dark, and my family was the only social circle I ever needed.
It was perfect. But the problem with perfect is that it never lasts.
The songs of a childhood summer don’t sound the same when you hear them from the headphones behind an adult desk job. The fruit doesn’t squeeze with the same juice that used to fill your mouth full of baby teeth.
As a teenager, the curse of comparison hit me early. I was overweight. Shy. Unsure of what I wanted to be. I swallowed my feelings to survive and accepted the shallowness of my teenage years because there wasn’t another option. Who else would I spend time with? What else would I do?
When I stepped into young adulthood, that perfect childhood started to feel like a crutch. I began meeting people who knew far more about the world than I did — people who could navigate big cities without thinking, who understood the language of social circles, who carried themselves with a confidence that only comes from lived experience.
What Shifted – The Military
Everything I knew about the “outside” world came from movies and books. I thought life was supposed to feel like a movie scene. I didn’t realize most of it is just… living.
And then there was the military.
For some people, “life-changing” means transformation in the best way. For me, it meant a draining of purpose and ambition. The initial culture shock was disorienting — new faces, accents, and stories from all over the world — but instead of finding my footing, I stayed stuck in the clouds of regret. The smell of bleached hallways and perfectly folded sheets wasn’t the smell of discipline — it was the smell of a place I was sure I didn’t belong.
I didn’t join because I felt called. I joined because I thought it would make people proud. But I learned quickly: the people don’t matter if you can’t be proud of yourself.
To survive, I had to dehumanize myself. I sold my dreams so I wouldn’t go deaf from them screaming at me. I became the uniform. The robot. Waiting for my freedom to return.
Feeling behind felt like a dog choking himself on a leash, trying to chase a squirrel. The leash is everything in the world telling you “no.” Eventually you stop trying, and the world calls it obedience. But inside, you feel like you’re dying — losing the very thing that makes you who you are.
Why Now – The Urgency to Travel
I don’t want to be leashed anymore. I don’t want to feel small in conversations because I haven’t lived enough to contribute. I don’t want to hear stories of places I’ve never been and feel like they belong to someone else’s world.
I don’t want to visit home with the polite lies about how “good” I’m doing. I don’t want to stay in places filled with things I already know — I want to be in places where the unknown learns me.
I can’t stand to scroll wishing my life was like someone else’s anymore.
I’m prioritizing my exposure to the world — the real world, not the one through screens, books, or boot camp orders. Because I’m done waiting for my life to start.
Closing – The Jump
I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t know if this trip will be better or worse for me in the end. But I know if I don’t take it now, I never will.
I’ve sat on the edge long enough, never knowing how good the water feels.
Not anymore.