A Call to Adventure

By Elizabeth Drolet of Elizabeth Drolet

-

The picture above is of a Roman warrior.  OK, a blonde warrior with a delightful scarf, extremely comfortable walking shoes (one who would enjoy a glass of wine and a nice conversation over a spar any day) but nonetheless a Roman fucking warrior.  On a side note, I debated using the F word in the last sentence, but being a modern-day Roman warrior and all, I decided it was necessary.

I was 28 years old and in the prime of my own cosmic chaos, otherwise known as my Saturn return. And apropos to the stars, I was in a time of total revolution and transition of self. In the chaos of the universe asking me to grow, I was being given the gift of courage.

Now, I have always been a bit fearless. But this type of brave demanded a new frontier. One that required soul searching and defining. One that would rely on vulnerability and trust. I prided myself on being strong and in control. I was used to being in a position of authority and autonomy. In fact, I would rather have heard nails on a chalkboard than appeared to be weak, lost or in need. Strength in vulnerability was not yet in my vocabulary. The beauty of getting lost had not been discovered. 

There are two types of people in the world when it comes decision-making. Some lead with perception, intuition and/or divine intervention, while others gravitate toward facts, information, and heady logic. I tend to be the latter and get locked in my head more than necessary. For every idea, I need evidence. For every truth, I need research and multiple credible sources.  

This being said, I have also always been sensitive and highly in tune with energy and the people around me. There has been a strong innate knowing of things before having an explanation why. Serendipity is a constant in my life and I am the survivor of more the one near-death experience, so believing in God has never been hard. The presence of God has always been felt. But navigating on this alone was not natural or comfortable. I was raised Christian, but the religion always felt like something that was given to me, instead of something that was truly mine. And it was hard to take action on something that didn’t feel like my truth. I hadn’t yet found my spiritual language. 

But that was the point. I was in a state of transformation. My soul was demanding more. What mattered, really mattered and what didn’t, really didn’t. It was a crystal-clear time of perception, fluidity and growth. I had never felt so mentally, emotionally and physically hungry for a completely new adventure. And with this clarity came the fortitude to pursue a dream that had been on the backburner since childhood. 

The dream was to move abroad, to live as a local and completely immerse myself in another culture. Despite the many scary “what ifs” and “could bes” that came flooding in from my network, family and friends, I did just that.

As someone who had once hosted an outdoor adventure show for a living, it wasn’t the first time I had gone against what others told me was possible. It was however, the first time I was faced with destroying all my sources of stability and going against everything I had relied on as safe.  

It’s interesting what happens to other people when you start making life-changing decisions. Somehow your journey becomes their journey. They start to experience your risk as their own. And their fear then gets projected on you like vomit. If you look up synonyms for adventurous, along words like enterprising and courageous, you will also find words like reckless and foolhardy.

I suppose the synonym depends on the personality. And that was the problem. Everyone has their own destiny and therefore desire. I believe that which calls us is divine and therefore, one person’s risk can be another person’s savior. The “right path” follows the right person. 

I was warned about every potential danger possible, from traveling alone as a single female to having an unforgivable gap on my resume. Before this revolution, to say I was career-driven was an understatement. I had spent my early and mid-twenties fiercely absorbed in my career. I was in a bubble that solely believed that there was one linear path to success. Western society doesn’t prioritize travel or cultural immersion. And while this had been enough to deter me in previous years, this was no longer the case.  

My wild heart had chosen journalism in a volatile time of changing media. The profession was becoming equitable to the dinosaurs and in a sincere state of ever-growing turmoil. This didn’t matter though. That wild heart of mine couldn’t imagine doing anything else. As a human-interest reporter I had a front seat to the human experience. These stories inspired, fueled and gave me purpose. I knew I was crafty and creative enough to make it work. Whatever obstacle would get in the way, I would conquer it.

I had stubbornly and ferociously navigated this passion through print, TV, video and then radio. The job required weekends, long hours, and flexible schedules. I had no boundaries. I thrived off the versatility and the ability to step outside the office. My insatiable hunger and the climate of the job were the perfect storm. Losing an identity outside of work was easy. 

My personal relationships and self-care greatly suffered. I was completely disconnected from my body. My health was a ticking time bomb that would also go off during Saturn return. I sought out other career obsessed individuals or sustained superficial relationships that I could party and unwind with. A journalist’s lunch usually consists of a bag of chips at the desk or something that can be eaten on the fly. There was only one relationship that truly fed me and that was work. And while the reasonings behind my obsession was for the greater good, my relationship with it was not for my greater good.

I had achieved my goal of becoming a professional arts and culture reporter in an internationally known destination. I was told frequently how lucky I was to have acquired what seemed to some as “the best job in the world,” in this “paradise” called Aspen, Colorado.

I was grateful, but guilty for feeling anything else. There is something particularly unnerving about constantly being told how good you have it.Any bad feeling is then unjustified, and therefore not allowed to feel. I was told I was killing it, but I didn’t believe it. I had become my biggest critic and never let myself off the hook. The day after I had been awarded by the state for my work, I was back on the grind trying to outdo myself. I was so tied up in the result, I had forgotten the joy of my pursuit. It was like I was always just filling a cup that had a hole in the bottom.

In addition, I was constantly ignoring my own intuition about my work situation. The station was a sister of several throughout Colorado. The owner was trying several different strategies to keep it afloat in the digital age. A new hire, a shift in job duties and poor management made the environment completely toxic. 

It was familiar toxicity that was rippling across the country. We were on the heels of one of the most contentious and heated elections in history. Fake news was propagated daily. Mainstream media was outwardly biased, killing any shred of dignity journalism once had. Journalists now not only underpaid and overworked but had lost their revered “watchdogs of society” title and thus, their reason why. Radio was dying. TV was dying. There wasn’t a clear path to the future of media. It was terrifying for any media professional. 

Somewhere along the way, I stopped feeling completely. Because well, I was feeling miserable. I wasn’t ready to give into all those people who told me I should have pursued any other path besides journalism. I had fought hard and long to be here. I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel.

But to start listening to your own feelings, means you first must first acknowledge they exist, and I wasn’t ready to admit that yet. So instead I just became numb. As I think most people do. It’s much easier to slump into our smartphones and social media feeds than feel our way through our problems. What people don’t tell you is the value of these damn feelings. Feelings are the beacons of your own internal compass. The language of your own higher intelligence and the keys to your higher purpose. To stop feeling is to stop healing. To stop being vulnerable is to stop being human. And when we stop being human, we have a real problem.

I stayed with the sinking ship until the ship told me I no longer had a job.

Getting laid off is hard for anyone, but to me it was devastating. I was the heart and face of this station with no identity outside of work. And even more terrifying? After chasing this dream for nearly a decade and conquering each barrier that had gotten in my way (and there were many) I was finally burn out.My passionate flame had officially burnt out. 

To navigate life without the fire, well for me this was the most uncomfortable space I had ever been in. The fire illuminated my path and gave me direction. I no longer had purpose. I didn’t understand me – without purpose.

During this time, I happened to stumble across a “life map” I had made in the fifth grade. The map was part of a school assignment, intended to get kids thinking about the future. And there in my projected life path was the many wonderful places I would visit.  Originally, I wanted to be a magazine writer and travel the world telling cultural stories. International cultures had always fascinated me, and my head was usually daydreaming about some European train headed towards an unknown destination.  Ironically this dream was terribly upsetting for my father. Traveling became my forbidden fruit. My secret desire. 

My dad had always saw travel as a vacation, not a purpose. Dad was never on a five-year plan; he was on a thirty-year plan. He embodied the spirit of the baby boomer generation and the American Dream. He had built a successful company out of nothing and an additional side hustle from the ground up. All travel he felt was a vacation and vacations were earned, not given. To him, life was about building blocks and clinging closely to material security. He didn’t have much appreciation for foreign cultures or traveling or any kind that matter. This intense desire of mine wasn’t something he understood nor approved of. 

I am very driven, but my nature is playful and quirky. I am driven by bliss, not just accomplishment. It was easy to get career-obsessed when my job was fueled by passion and fun. I am a lone wolf and a social butterfly, fluttering to my own beat in route of curiosity and exploration. My dad has always been the anchor to my endeavors. The official butterfly catcher – trying to attach those wings to what he thought was most solid and realistic. 

What dad didn’t realize is that roots are personal. Security is subjective and stability can’t be found solely in your checking account. My objective was to experience and discover the gift of life. Real roots are found by chasing all the buds of your soul, no matter how “superfluous” they may seem.

Dad had always made it clear he would not be there for financial security. He raised me to be self-reliant and incredibly autonomous. He was raised by strong, progressive and independent women and intended me to be the same. I was to make my own path in life. Which was fair. My sovereign soul wouldn’t have had it any other way.

According to him, travel was the ultimate distraction and therefore the catalyst to my greatest destruction. Who would hire me with such a frivolous adventure on my resume? It was a very strange feeling, thinking that which most called me, was also my greatest annihilation.  

When I finally made the decision to go abroad, it was the hardest and easiest of decisions. When I decide to do something, there isn’t much that stands in my way. I managed to leave the country within a month of deciding my fate.

Despite our big differences, we tend to have more similarities. In fact, dad and I are incredibly close and have always had a special bond. As a mentioned, he is the official “rock” when my world gets shaky. My fixer. My biggest cheerleader and greatest ally.  

When I told him of my big plans to move to Italy, he was irate. I had personally offended him and for the first time, it felt as if it was unforgivable. He told me I was making the biggest mistake of my life. He warned if I came back “penniless without job opportunities,” I was not to come crying to him. He reminded me that this was my decision and therefore I would deal with any consequences. These words still sting as I write them today. It was clear our relationship would be forever changed.

We were forced to either evolve or be destroyed completely.He was one of my best friends and I had to turn away and disconnect from him entirely. To be so ridiculously brave I had no choice. I couldn’t listen to any negativity or take on any of his fear. I was leaping into the unknown in everyway possible. 

I only spoke to people who were supportive. I filled my head with books like You are a Badass,by Jen Sincero and May Cause Miracles: A 40-Day Guidebook of Subtle Shifts for Radical Change and Unlimited Happinessby Gabby Bernstein. I clung close to God, meditated every morning and spent many afternoons in nature. I was in high manifestation mode and in the process of creating a sacred and unbreakable sense of security within myself. 

To walk away from my dad and possibly my career was earth shattering, but not soul shattering,and that was the difference. In September of 2017 I moved to Turin, Italy. I have never regretted this decision. The first couple months were like waking up every day in a dream. I was finally the girl I had always envisioned as a child. The one I had seen traveling on that European train, living with a host family and experiencing the world from a completely different seat.

Sure, there were times of loneliness, culture shock and despair. But it never deterred me. This was part of my destiny. Life is full of ups and downs, even if you are living your dream.I learned not to hope for things but to fully believe in their possibility. I created and cultivated an inner peace that I had never known. I found God and the spiritual language I had been seeking. I met the most authentic version of myself and I learned to believe in miracles. This passion for other cultures was affirmed and I realized whatever path I will take in life; travel will be a significant part of it. 

I rarely talked to my father while I was abroad. I was still upset and intentionally kept our conversations infrequent and short. When I did return to the states, we surprisingly picked up right where we had left off. My dad isn’t one to be emotionally vulnerable and so we never really talked about what happened. I did, however, start to notice a change within him.   

Suddenly, going on his own adventures became of highest priority. His love for making music and being outdoors began to flourish. Whenever I call him, he is either in the midst or planning his next adventure hunting, fishing, and/or enjoying some form of outdoor rec. My controlling father has released his tight grip on life. His hair has even grown long enough for a ponytail. Yes, the man who once shuddered at an untucked shirt, now rocks a man bun. His beard has gotten more unruly and his eyes more twinkly. His aggressive and cutthroat attitude has been replaced by a soft, patient and sensitive demeanor. He prioritizes his relationships and his joy. A new confidence has unfolded within in him, one that isn’t reliant on success or outside approval. He is truly happy and content.

What’s stranger is this new dad, doesn’t feel new. But instead feels more genuine and like the most authentic version of himself he has ever been. As it turns out, his own heart is pretty wild. Maybe this wild heart of mine originally belonged to him. The ultimate mountain man has finally been set free.Our relationship is stronger than ever. Sometimes I wonder if answering the call of my adventure, inspired him to do the same.

I didn’t return penniless as my dad had predicted, instead the journey set me on an entrepreneurial path and gave me a new career in freelancing my skill set remotely. I think the universe conspires for us to live our truest paths. But living your own authentic path can be a pretty wild adventure. Everyone hears a ring, but it is up to us to answer. May your heart be just wild enough to take the call.