When “Something To Look Forward To” Leaves Life Behind
I hesitate, hovering over my keyboard for a few seconds before clicking “Complete”. In an instant, the flight is purchased and the hotel is booked. I can’t afford this, but it’s worth it. I’m going to Europe. In four months from this very moment, I will be traversing unfamiliar land. That means that I have 16 weeks of excessive planning, researching, daydreaming and fantasizing about the future trip. Nothing can get me down.
Full disclosure: I’m a recovering anticipation addict. While travel is no doubt an exciting and fulfilling opportunity to grow, I have taken the anticipation preceding the trip to an entirely new level. I have manipulated a time frame into acting as a means to an end unto itself. Anticipation acts as an unhealthy coping mechanism to deal with monotony, dullness or dissatisfaction. Anticipation is a way for me to deal with depression without making a change. A few years ago, in my darkest times, I began to live only for excitement of an adventure. The moments between them — the nooks and crannies of familiarity — lacked stimulation. And I thought I couldn’t do anything about it.
I lived in Astoria. I had a stimulating job. I had plenty of friends and supportive family. But I still saw my life as a long-winded rulebook mapped with repetition and riddled with consistency; a neat set of guidelines from start to finish. Each day did not begin unwritten, but rather, as a regimented rat race, a track with hurdle after hurdle to jump before reaching the finish line.
Wake up. Walk to the subway. Get on the subway. Walk to work. Work. Go home. Go to the gym. Make dinner. Sleep. Repeat. I engaged in this routine, all the while my mind was elsewhere — snorkeling a cove in Puerto Rico or exploring a jungle in Costa Rica. My body methodically dragged me along, using any inkling of future excitement as an escape from repetitive reality. It doesn’t matter what job I had, what route I took, where I lived or what I ate for lunch. All of these factors have changed. It was the act of doing the same thing every day that deeply disturbed my soul to the point that I dismissed reality as relevant or useful. Thus, I needed to book trips, immediately, to fulfill this blank space of time with something enticing. I needed to tease my tired mind with previews of what’s to come just to get through.
Familiar aspects of my life became oppressive. Cracks in the sidewalk in front of my apartment began to anger me. The barista reciting my order made me uncomfortable. That’s why my brain flew — soaring higher and farther far from the present — and into the exotic trip that I planned for myself. I’m not in Starbucks, I’m hiking in Patagonia.
Travel quickly became a reliable crutch to counter depression, a dependable departure from familiarity. With an exotic trip on the horizon, I could deal with just about anything. When I’m lonely or bored, I Google excursions in Ibiza. On an unbearably crowded subway train, I fantasize about Parisian cafes. In line at the bank, I imagine the beaches in Bali. By booking a trip in advance, I have created a space of time that I can play out my most elusive travel fantasies like a film reel. It revived me and woke me to possibilities beyond my own context. The adventure ahead could turn any bad day into a good day, acting as a reliable though unrealistic means to happiness.
Through therapy, my tendency began to slowly make its way to the surface of my consciousness. “At least I have Iceland to look forward to,” I would say as a silver lining to an issue. I said this so much that it began to be questioned. “Well, what if you didn’t? What if you didn’t have anything to look forward to at all, and you could only rely on the present for happiness?” I had no answer for this. At the time, the notion was too grim to acknowledge fully. What if I didn’t have anything to daydream about or plan for? What if all of the time, every second and moment, I was aware of what I was doing at that time? Who would I be?
I have employed this technique since childhood, travel being the most recent bout. There has always been “something to look forward to,” whether it was a school dance, a summer break or simply the weekend. I have always relied on a future event to deal with the present circumstance; I have always depended on an exciting and inevitable “something” to help sift through repetitive drudge with half-hearted optimism. “Every day” did not consciously register as “life,” it simply served as the in-between. The fluff. The stuffer. The commercial break between the main program.
The reality that I so innocently depended on as a schoolgirl (daydreaming for the weekend) is a slippery slope that I slid into with open arms when times got tough. I successfully crafted an “always waiting” reality. I invented a method and a system for myself in which no matter what bothered me in the time prior to the event of excitement, I’d be okay.
But if I continue to disregard “every day” as an opportunity for greatness, what is my life but a series of rare, isolated events? When all is said in done, can I be happy in knowing that I valued fantasy over reality? Who am I if I’m only revived while looking forward to something different than my actual life? What is my life if my consciousness and physical being are constantly out of alignment?
I’m a work in progress, but I know that I don’t want to live that kind of life. I’m missing out on valuable time. I’m missing out on the now. By living more in the present, I feel happier. I feel more engaged with my surroundings, more in control of my decisions and more willing to make changes that improve my happiness. By relying on anticipation to deal with “real life,” I didn’t have to change. There’s simply no pressure with a crutch. The more I rely on factors outside of myself to be happy, the less I cultivate a real life that I love. Entertaining myself with daydreams of the future does not change my situation, and after a trip, familiarity is here when I return, waiting for me. I am only quenching a temporary thirst without solving the bigger problem.
Travel opens the mind to different ways of life, and I make it a priority for this reason. But what I will not do any longer is take the “every day” for granted, to distract myself from it with what appears to be a more enticing reality. Every moment is a fiber intricately woven into the fabric that is my life. The only thing that’s real is the present, right now, that’s passing, passing, passing by.
