Are You Living a Life You Actually Enjoy?
Andrew and I are not what you would particularly call “cultured” people, which is a little ironic considering we intentionally moved to Santa Fe, one of the most culturally rich cities in America.
We don't especially enjoy museums or art galleries. We're not big festival people. We're definitely not foodies. We like good food, don't get me wrong, but spending several hundred dollars on an elaborate fine-dining experience only to wonder if we should stop for a snack afterward isn't really our idea of a great night out.
This isn't a criticism of any of those things. I have friends who can spend hours wandering through a museum or planning a vacation around fabulous restaurants, and they genuinely love it. That's wonderful. I'm actually a little envious sometimes. I just keep discovering that I'm not one of them.
A few years ago, we met up with our kids in Madrid, and they convinced us that we absolutely had to visit the Prado Museum. Of course we did. It's the Prado! Even Andrew and I knew this was one of those places you were “supposed” to see.
We all went our separate ways once we got inside, and I started dutifully wandering through the various exhibits, taking in some of the most famous art in the world. The museum is enormous. After about an hour, though, I realized I was done. I had appreciated the art. I was glad I'd seen it. And I wanted a cup of coffee.
So I headed to the museum café to wait for everyone else.
Guess who was already there?
Andrew.
Neither of us knew the other had bailed. Apparently, after about an hour of independently soaking up all that culture, we'd independently reached the exact same conclusion: coffee sounded better.
We laughed, ordered our coffee and happily sat there waiting for our kids to finish. When they eventually found us, they rolled their eyes. They know us. Of course Mom and Dad were sitting in the café while they were still wandering around one of the greatest art museums in the world.
I'm pretty sure we all enjoyed Madrid. We just didn't necessarily enjoy it the same way.
When we first moved to Santa Fe, I decided we were going to do all the things. We went to Zozobra. We went to the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta. We attended the New Mexico State Fair and the rodeo. We attended many of the annual festivals, visited historic sites, wandered around the Plaza, attended the Opera at the famous outdoor theater, tried many of the renowned restaurants, and generally made a sincere effort to experience what our new home had to offer.
I'm really glad we did.
And now, a year and a half later, our feelings about quite a few of those experiences can best be summarized as: Been there. Done that.
Not because they weren't worthwhile. They were. We simply discovered that many of them aren't things we particularly need to do again unless we have friends or family visiting who want to experience them.
And you know what? I'm surprisingly happy about that.
There was probably a time when I would have felt like we weren't taking full advantage of living here. How can you live in Santa Fe and not spend your weekends going to galleries and festivals and museums? Shouldn't we be trying the newest restaurants? Shouldn't we be wandering around the Plaza more often?
Apparently not.
Given a free Saturday in the Fall, Andrew and I would probably rather find a local sports bar where we can watch our favorite college football teams. I'd happily spend a morning hiking. I've loved learning to dance. We both work out regularly. Andrew enjoys fishing and has met all kinds of interesting people who, like us, somehow found their way to Santa Fe from somewhere else.
We travel quite a bit, but even there, we've realized we don't need to see everything we're told we're supposed to see. We like wandering through neighborhoods, sitting in cafés, eating at casual restaurants, spending time outdoors, talking to people, and getting a feel for what everyday life is like somewhere different. We'll visit the famous sights when something genuinely interests us, but we don't need to complete the checklist in order to feel like we've properly visited a place.
We're also perfectly happy eating dinner ridiculously early. Think Jerry's parents on Seinfeld. Give us an early dinner, an episode of a television show we both enjoy, and an early bedtime, and we're living the dream.
I'll admit that I still occasionally feel a little unsophisticated about all of this. There can be a tiny voice in my head saying, Shouldn't you want to do more? Shouldn't you be more interested in that? Shouldn't you take advantage of this opportunity?
But lately I've started asking myself a different question whenever that feeling comes up.
What exactly am I feeling guilty about?
Am I avoiding something because it makes me uncomfortable or stretches me beyond my comfort zone? Because that's worth paying attention to. Sometimes the things we're reluctant to do are exactly the things that can expand our lives. Taking a part-time job recently was outside the life I'd gotten accustomed to, and I've absolutely loved the new energy and experiences it has brought into my life.
But there's another possibility.
Am I feeling guilty because I think I should want to do something that, when I'm being completely truthful with myself, simply isn't my thing?
Those are two very different answers.
I'm becoming much more interested in knowing the difference.
I don't want my preferences to become an excuse for keeping my life small. I want to stay curious. I want to try things. I want to continue discovering new interests, meeting new people and allowing my life to evolve in ways I can't necessarily predict.
But I also don't want to spend my life checking boxes on somebody else's list of what an interesting, sophisticated, adventurous, or well-lived life is supposed to look like.
Maybe part of knowing yourself is being willing to try the museum—and also being perfectly comfortable admitting when you'd rather be in the café.
I'm increasingly convinced there isn't one ideal version of a good life. There is only the life that actually fits the person living it. The things that light someone else up don't have to light me up, and the ordinary things that bring me enormous pleasure don't need to look impressive to anybody else.
The goal isn't to create a life that looks interesting from the outside.
It's to create a life you genuinely enjoy living from the inside.
Want to explore what that looks like in your own life? Download my free Thrive Discernment Guide. It's designed to help you slow down, separate what you actually want from what you think you should want, and make choices that feel more aligned with the life you want to live.
