Teenage me had a mental list.
Lose the weight.
Travel the world.
Have more money.
Marry the perfect man.
Buy the house.
Have lots of kids.
I was desperate to become an adult and have all the things I ever wanted.
I believed happiness lived in the perfect number on the scale, my dream home, a healthy bank account, and a passport full of stamps.
Some of these things did, in fact, happen for me in adulthood.
But the most surprising thing? They didn’t immediately make me happy.
I was confused... it took me years, but I learned something:
The goal post was always moving.
The truth is, as you age your perspective shifts and while none of these were bad goals, they aren’t where happiness lives.
When I landed my first nursing job, I felt like I was absolutely swimming in money. I had never made so much in my life, and we had few bills to cover at that time, because we were so young. My husband was already a firefighter at the time, and we just felt so grown!
I sent gifts regularly to family, bought new clothes, bought a cool new car and treated myself to things I wanted (lots of books, lots of the time).
It felt amazing. I even began to travel internationally with my friends from work.
Weekend trips to Mexico and the Caribbean. Beach resorts were the norm.
It wasn’t until years later, I realized that isn’t even the kind of trip I enjoy!
One day it hit me that I wasn’t actually chasing my dream. I was chasing what I thought adulthood was supposed to look like.
Buy the clothes and bags everyone recognizes. Drive the car people desire. Have it all and more.
It wasn’t that I’d been unhappy. Those trips were super fun with my friends. Driving a fun sporty car with an amazing stereo system was exciting (music drives almost everything for me).
They just weren’t me exactly.
Somewhere along the way I got confused between the version of success that is sold to us in the media and the one I saw for myself as a kid.
Somewhere along the way, between becoming a mom, working long hours, and untangling parts of my past, I lost sight of the person I used to be.
But here’s the thing…
Teenage Kaci hung up a world map on her wall and marked all the places she would travel someday. She dreamed of becoming a National Geographic photographer and seeing the places and animals few people are privileged to see in real life. She poured over her dad’s closet full of back issues of the magazine with a fine-tooth comb. I would sit in the floor of that closet for hours and flip the pages with a steady hand so I didn’t bend the pages.
I don’t remember wanting luxury, I remember wandering antique stores in Black Mountain looking for hidden treasures.
I don’t remember wanting to lie on a beach with a drink in my hand, I remember dreaming about going on an African safari and seeing elephants and lions. In fact, when my oldest was a girl scout and we were lucky enough to do a sleepover at the zoo, we got to see the elephants in person and I cried. Just seeing them in an imperfect setting was the beginning of opening my eyes to what I was missing.
Looking back, I think I was crying because I recognized a part of myself I had forgotten.
It probably took me a decade of travel to destinations that other people wanted me to see, to realize that what I like is a little different. While those beach days with a cocktail were lots of fun in my 20s, I now prefer a much quieter vacation.
Over the last few years of rediscovering myself and what I in fact enjoy, I have learned to backpack, travelled to no fewer than 6 national parks and bought my dream home in the mountains where I can escape to anytime I want.
I rediscovered the fact that I am a homebody at heart – I love a good trip (the bison in Yellowstone made my 2024) but I always love coming back home. Home to my routines and my cozy spaces.
Maybe happiness isn’t about building a life that impresses other people.
Maybe it’s about building one that feels like your own.
For some it might be travel, for some it might be a big family. For me, it ended up being about paying attention to the life I had already created. One with a family I adore, a job that feels right and a home base I love to return to after I find adventures.
Looking back, it makes perfect sense that I eventually found my way to hiking. It wasn’t about conquering mountains. It was about finally slowing down long enough to hear my own voice again.
Teenage me probably wouldn’t be surprised that I ended up in the mountains instead of on another beach.
She already knew.
It just took me a few decades to remember.
Now, when I unlock the door to our mountain house after a long week, I don’t feel like I’ve escaped my life.
I feel like I’ve come home to it.
I loved this!
As a nature lover, homebody and someone who has music running through my veins, I understood every part of this. As children, we really are more ourselves until society tells us what we should strive for and who we should be. The twenties are definitely for exploration and trying things on to see how it fits. We are the lucky ones who found our way back to our authentic selves and to what truly makes us happy. 🤗
The detail of flipping through your dad's National Geographics carefully so you wouldn't bend the pages says more about who you actually were than any bucket list could. Glad you found your way back to her, mountains and all.