from the vault: on consistency

Where the f*ck are my socks???

Continuing my “from the vault” series where I share my past writing that was only published to a small audience (mostly family members).

At this point in my European travels, things are starting to unravel a bit…

Back in May, I moved out of my apartment in San Francisco. Since then, it’s been a whirlwind: catching up with friends, city-hopping, international flights, living out of a suitcase. Classic first-world problems, I know, but that doesn’t make them feel any less real when you're in the thick of it.

The truth is, I’m not sure I’m totally built for this life on the go.

Yesterday, after a long, hot shower, I broke down crying. Something about the warmth, the quiet, the solitude brought me right back to what home feels like. And I realized: I don’t really have a home right now. My belongings are packed away in boxes, scattered between my parents’ houses. My bed, my favorite pajamas, my cat— all out of reach. I’m hopping from place to place and not staying long enough for any to feel real, let alone like home.

I’ve always chased novelty, adventure, and change, but the past two months have taught me something unexpected: even novelty needs an anchor. Too much movement without anything solid to return to and everything starts to blur.

I miss the simple things: waking up in the same bed, knowing where my socks are, walking a familiar route with my morning coffee. I miss my routines. I miss consistency.

It turns out, consistency isn’t boring, it’s stabilizing. It’s what makes the exciting parts of life feel exciting instead of exhausting!

I’m still figuring out how to balance the craving for newness and the need for something steady. But I’m starting to see that consistency isn’t the opposite of freedom, it’s the foundation that lets freedom feel good.

If anyone has any advice for how to find consistency while I’m on the go for three more months, I’m all ears 😀.

---

On consistency

Originally published 3/28/17

In junior high everyone was required to take an elective course, one class chosen for pure enjoyment or for the sake of learning a new skill. While many of my friends wasted the opportunity for higher learning on frivolous subjects such as cake decorating, puppeteering, and scrapbooking, I selected a more serious, practical option. I took bowling.

A novice to the sport, I was only slightly intimidated when one of my classmates showed up to the bowling alley on the first day with her own ball and personalized carrying bag. After a brief speech on safety by a guy who clearly hated his job, we begun building the fundamentals and sharing pro tips about mastering the technique. You know, it's all in the wrists. I pretty much had my dramatic walk from the ball machine to the foul line perfected when the training wheels were ripped off as it was announced we were not allowed to use bumpers. Amateur hour was over.

Every Tuesday and Thursday we piled into minivans to hit the lanes, which began to feel like we were attending a really lame birthday party again and again- except there wasn't any cake. I discovered I was an extremely mediocre bowler. It was a rare and greatly celebrated occasion when my score entered into the coveted 100's. At the end of the course, the teacher prepared to hand out a trophy for the best pair of bowlers. The group began excitedly whispering names of people they assumed would get the award. Needless to say, neither me nor my equally-mediocre partner's names were in the mix. However, to my (and everyone else's) genuine surprise, our names were called out as we were handed the magnificent pieces of cheap plastic.

It was later explained that our scores were so consistently "good enough" and close to each other that we somehow achieved an overall average higher than that of any other team. I wasn't sure who was doing the math here, but I certainly wasn't about to object. Much too humble to deliver a victory speech, I quietly accepted the trophy (read: I bragged about it for days).

It has been quite some time since I achieved this milestone in my life, but it is only now that I am starting to realize the practical implication. It is not necessarily true that to excel at something you have to be great or the best, but if you continually produce the same good results or repeat certain actions or behaviors, over time you can reach success. It is also said that what is consistent in your life is your life.

Accepting this acknowledges that it is often difficult to be consistent. It takes intention, determination, and focus. I will be the first to admit that this is something I have struggled with. I have my bad days, I'm sometimes lazy, and I forget too easily how much energy and work it takes to maintain a positive lifestyle. However, I realize at the end of the day, what I will be judged on are those small efforts that I repeat day in and day out. Consistency builds character, trust, leadership, happiness, and love, and if we practice it, we can achieve great things.

walk boldly,

Caroline