I never really thought of myself as an adrenaline junkie. As a kid, I was a straight A student who was super involved in my church. I played piano and worked as a waitress and babysat to make a little money.
Of course, like many of us, I look back at some of the stupid things I did in my teens and early twenties, and I thank God that my bad decisions didn’t have lingering (or lethal) consequences.
Yeah… I did some dumb stuff. In high school, it was illegal bonfires and lying to my parents about where I was spending the night. Parking with my boyfriend to ‘check out the view’ from the mountain lookout. Dancing in the Denny’s parking lot at 2am. Camping in the woods with kids I had just met.
In college it was frat parties and spring break trips. It was stumbling home drunk and pizza at 3am. It was smoking cigarettes and venturing out on the railroad bridge at Letchworth State Park, praying a train wouldn’t come through.
https://fingerlakes.fandom.com/wiki/Letchworth_State_Park?file=Letchworth_rail_bridge.jpg
In my twenties, the big risk was moving to a new city by myself. I made a new group of friends and found myself hosting late night house parties, making out with strangers in bars, and cliff jumping at the quarries on the North Shore. I got my motorcycle and loved the rush of scraping my knees against pavement around a tight turn.
But somewhere along the line, little by little, the risks began to change. I fell in love. Got married. Had babies. Bought a house. All risks, but a different kind.
Over the last few years, we’ve gone through a couple of new jobs, our son’s transition, and bringing our foster daughter into the family. We fought through a rough spot in our marriage and some tough times financially. There were a lot of adrenaline-inducing events.
But recently, things have calmed down. I no longer feel as if I’m preparing for a battle. We’re all doing well. And instead of being relaxed and grateful, I find myself missing something. I think it might be the adrenaline.
Don’t get me wrong. I have zero desire to jump off a cliff or go camping with strangers. But I also know that my natural tendency is to hang out squarely within my comfort zone.
The thing is, there’s JOY in my comfort zone. There’s friendship and security. There is laughter and fulfillment. This life that I have? It’s pretty great. It’s full of date nights and book club and bedtime stories; family dinners and church gatherings, guitar lessons and movie nights; good friends and camping trips and family vacations.
So when I find myself missing SOMETHING, my first tendency is to dismiss my own yearnings. What could I possibly need? I’m not 23 anymore. I’m incredibly blessed.
But the more I ignore that inner voice, the more persistent it becomes. And eventually, I have to spend a little time listening to myself. For me, that just means I need to notice the places where I’m stuck. I need to notice what’s become too comfortable and remember that even a beautiful path traveled too frequently becomes a rut.
I know what I like. So it’s easy to stick with it. Date night? Let’s go to the usual place! Family vacation? We love camping! Need some girl time? Book club every third Saturday!
But maybe the easy choice is taking the place of the more fulfilling choice. Sometimes the harder thing is the more rewarding one. That doesn’t mean I need to get a tattoo or go sky diving (although they’re both still on the table). I might need to try a new restaurant. Volunteer for a new cause. Make plans with a friend I haven’t seen in a while. I might need to turn off Netflix and write a little bit.
At this point in my life, my adrenaline comes from socializing, from creating, from trying something new. My motorcycle is still an important outlet, although I’d rather feel the wind in my face than my knees on the pavement.
I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t need to take stupid risks to feel alive. I don’t need to do something dangerous to get a little rush. When this beautiful life of mine starts to feel like a well-worn path, I just need to step into the woods, notice the birds, and smell the flowers. I have to be mindful of the things that make me feel like ME and remember to do them.