It’s been a hard and pivotal 2-3 years for me. A serious long-term relationship came to an end amidst a great deal of emotional angst and regret. I pried myself from my cocoon of an apartment and moved downtown. And after over 10 years at the same company, in a position and career track that was making me incredibly unhappy, I took a chance on a new job that has to date offered me more than I originally thought it could.

These things aren’t easy for me. That’s a bit of an understatement actually. The things I find hard in my life are the things that other people take as everyday conveniences. And I’ve spent my entire life hiding these things from everyone. Secretly managing them by myself; alone. It’s affected my mood. My behavior. My decisions. How I interact with other people. How I don’t interact with other people.

If a man spends his entire life on an island he might not know that another world exists. He may even turn down life-savers thrown his way. He’s fine on his island. It’s all he’s known. In fact this is his island. “Thanks, I’m good,” he says as he waves boats past, hurrying them along, although he secretly wishes they’d anchor and stay for a little while. But the reality of the situation is that as safe as he may feel, he’s the only one on the island. And a human being can only tolerate that for so many years before he finally breaks.

It will always be the great sadness of my life that it took the particular events that it took for me to finally break. But I did. I broke in dramatic fashion. And against every instinct in my core, I finally took the life-saver.

So what now? Never in my life have I worked so hard. Along the way long held life views have been shattered. Past behavior has been owned up to and better yet explained. Metrics of success have been re-evaluated. Psychological muscles hardened and stiff from decades of strain are finally learning to relax. I think it’s just the beginning.

There’s an uncomfortable urgency to all of this. Like I’ve woken up from a deep sleep to find myself on an asphalt track with everyone several laps ahead of me. I desperately want to catch up to everyone else but I don’t know if it’s even possible at this point. I’m still wiping the sleep from my eyes and shaking the pins and needles out of my feet.

But as my feet ache and my head throbs, in my moments of doubt and desperation, all I have to do is think of one thing: If I weren’t here, I’d still be on the island. What my world would still look like if that were the case is a much more painful and regrettable existence than this could ever be. I pick up the pace.

And if I’m lucky enough. If I’m smart enough. I’ll come to realize sooner rather than later that no one on this track is actually racing each other after all. They’re just running.

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