So you go on a two-month trip around the world. You throw caution and convention to the wind, try some new food, take a thousand pictures, fall more in love. You get a great tan and finally reach the point where you’re ready to come home.

And then you fly back over the Atlantic, take a couple days to get over your jet lag, another to turn 27, have a party and then woosh! like all the air being sucked out of a room, you find yourself standing still wondering, “What next?”

In case it wasn’t perfectly obvious, the you in the above scenario is actually me, and that woosh moment sucker punched me. I am back to that unfortunately familiar place of trying to decide what to do with myself. I feel caught between wanting to wait for The Right Thing™ and wanting merely to fill my days with anything resembling accomplishment.

I have a hard time being content when I reach low, but I have an even harder time with the logistics of really going for it. For what, exactly? Therein seems to be my problem. I can’t seem to focus on one thing and try with everything to attain it. I don’t want spend my time springing around from hobby to job to habit without settling on something I love, though.

I crave purpose. I want to feel I am meant to do something and that even though it may be hard work, it will be worth it. But first I need to figure out what that purpose is. Suggestions welcome 🙂