On stowing the Rocky Mountain High in my suitcase.

I was recently told that I'm too serious. That my standards are too high. That I've got such a stick up my butt, constantly reading all those gosh-darn books. "Men don't like a girl who's so intense all the time, you know." It reminded me of Christmas, and of my grandmother's quip: "You'll never find a man if you keep being a vegetarian, you know." What is with that?? What is with people who barely know me informing me that I have to change who I am in order to, of all things, eventually attract someone with whom I can be completely honest and wholly intimate? Naturally, I laughed my humorless little butt off and went on with my day. But I have to admit, it got to me. If only because it made me wonder whether I come across the way I think I do. If the "me" I put out to the world matches the "me" I'm so well acquainted with inside.

A few days after that ridiculous yet thought-provoking conversation, I left for a vacation in Colorado and had an absolutely amazing time. Knowing full well that happiness has nothing to do with geographic coordinates, I came back to the east coast with the express intention of figuring out exactly what it is about the wild, wild west that makes me feel so wonderful.

(Aside from sights like this, that is.)
And so I did. See, I'd had zero expectations heading into my trip. I was afraid it would hurt too much to be back there, so I had avoided devoting even a single thought to anything about it except for my race training. That really made the whole week very... easy. When it came to our weekend in Utah, I handed the reins to everyone else. For once, I was just along for the ride. I let go of controlling anything at all and just enjoyed myself. My friends. The weather. The mountains and canyons and desert and fresh air. Without any expectations or desire to control circumstance, there was no way for me to feel disappointed.

Let's just say that realizing all that was a definite "a-ha!" moment. I have always prided myself on being an excellent planner - which, unbeknownst to me, apparently translates in proper English as "she who has major control issues." Living life from the neck up comes with an unfortunate desire to be able to foresee the future, the way other people will act and the outcomes of all of your carefully orchestrated choices. And all of these expectations automatically set you up for anxiety, aggravation and, ultimately, disappointment... a.k.a. the New England, Type A way of life.

I've written a number of posts in the last year about how happiness comes from "being here now," but I don't think I ever quite knew exactly how to do that. But Coloradans sure do. Turns out, it happens when you live in your body instead of your brain. When you spend your moments focusing on the person in front of you, or the sunshine on your shoulders, or the depth of your breath, rather than your to-do list, or what other people think of you, or all of the possible twists of fate that you are so deathly afraid of being unprepared for. What is the worst that can happen, really? What good is worrying actually doing you? And more importantly, what are you missing out on by being so caught up in your fears over anything and everything that could go so "wrong"? Maybe I have been too serious, after all. Maybe I have been spending too much time caught up in my safe little cocoon of a brain, building walls against anyone (everyone) and anything (everything) I am afraid of.

So I'm turning over a new leaf. I'm certainly not changing who I am, but I'm finally letting other people know who that girl is. Here and there, I'm letting go of the reins. I'm not going to lie, it scares the ever-loving daylights out of me. But it's also incredibly liberating. And what some might call freedom feels a lot like that bliss I've been chasing after for years. Funnily enough, it was here all along.