Why 52 Adventures?
There was this life I lived. It was a life. It could be called living. When I look back now it all seems sort of gray and colorless, like I was colorblind and everything was sort of muted back then, foggy. I was living for all these things outside of myself. What I should do and where and how my body should move wasn’t my own. It just was being moved for me. Even the paintings I made were derivative and monochromatic. And then the world turned Technicolor. The fog burned off my eyes. It’s going to sound like a cliché at first, but stick with me.
After being convinced year after year I couldn’t, I was too dependent, the answer was no. I continued to listen. It sunk in. And despite my rebellious behavior to fight against that, I believed I couldn’t. Then I quit everything and bet on my best friend whose insides I knew and believed in better than he did himself at times. And despite his bravado, saw him for what he needed. I took a job where I thought I could grow and for a while, I did. We both did. He made it through law school and we got married. Things got hard after that. He couldn’t find work and decided to start a firm with a friend. I discovered the bitter side of corporate life where ideas are appreciated by compliments, but not the necessary compensation. And arbitrary steps in the ladder can’t be leapt over. We took on more than we could handle to help family and friends, though we wanted to believe we could do it all and wouldn’t allow them in to share in our struggle. A divide formed when we should have been converging. We wanted to start a real family and weren’t sure if the time was right. Numbed by television, food, and alcohol we spent money we weren’t sure was going to come and overextended ourselves. Crushed by loved ones hurting, an unsuccessful run for office, and life not going as planned a light appeared. We were pregnant.
Despite the rapid weight gain and general discomfort, I loved being pregnant. It was the most incredible feeling in the world to have a life taking form inside of me. It felt absolutely magical and completely natural all at the same time. The pregnancy brought us closer. We kept it a secret for a while and it was just us, in love, making a beautiful little family. In the end, I got sick. Sick to the point of blood pressure through the roof, pumping me full of so much medicine, padding my bed, can’t get up, losing too much blood, can’t hold my new baby alone, almost passing out a week later because I can’t walk, sick. My doctor told me a few weeks postpartum that this new human I was ready to stop entire armies for wasn’t going to have me around for long if changes weren’t made. Dead in my tracks. All of my choices came at me. I started reading about food choices. I studied Betty Crocker’s vegetable cooking guide and watched Sara Snow on FitTV like she was the reverend of health. I started running. I literally thought I would die if 60 seconds of running followed by 90 seconds of walking had to be repeated, but I did it. Stroller and dog in tow, inspiring me. That baby looked to me everyday for nourishment of body and mind. I had planned to go back to work for a little while at least. We wanted to try it. We needed my benefits. It was all set, but as the day closed in, I could feel my throat constricting and breathing become shallow like it might possibly stop if I left him. I could have done it, but life had taken on a new trajectory and it would go back to the same colorless track if I went back. I could feel it in every short breath. So I called and I tearfully quit work. I severed the life I had known since we moved to this city. We made the decision this was going to be the best situation for our family. We wanted our values and our experiences poured in to raising this baby. Together. I would find ways to cut costs. He would find ways to work to raise money. We would be a little family. We chose life and love and us. I said yes to something I could do. Technicolor.
There have been struggles. There have been classes and jobs. There have been arguments and differences of opinion. There has been money crises and back tracking on diet and exercise. There has always been life and love and us.
In that first year I wanted to make sure we were intentional. I wanted to make sure that in making this decision, I did it right. I made a plan in my mind: 52 adventures. One a week for a year. We would go out and try something new together. Get out of the house and make sure we experienced life and didn’t become scared hermits at home. It didn’t happen, it wasn’t really necessary though. I found I wanted to show him everything. I was bolder than I’d ever been, because I didn’t want him to miss a thing.
Three have since become four and personalities and adventure have made us. We are better together. We are better when life is bigger and more colorful. We choose love every single day. So as we grow older and a little more separate, the 52 adventures now begin.
