I think I've figured it out.  I'm not certain if it's 100% accurate, but I think it's pretty close.  It's that "why are you the way you are" question that I finally have an answer to.  I think I've got it.

All my life I've had this itch.  The urge to do bigger, to do better, to live fuller.  I want to do it all and I won't stop until I do.  Well, until life forces me to stop.  Until marriage and baby and bills find their way to make the train stop.  I stop.  But every few months that urge comes back.  That urge to do something great to take on something bigger.  And just this morning as I was scanning my morning emails, it hit me.

I get this urge every time I feel restless with where I'm at (physically) in the moment.  Every time I feel that I'm on the verge of something but maybe not quite where I want to be and maybe not as content as I wish I was.  It has nothing to do with the current happenings in my life, it's just this urge inside of me for more when I'm restless to see if that will fill up what it feels I am missing.


I am a nomad.  I've been called that for most of my adult life because I do not like being in one place for too long.  It's been five (six?) years since we've lived near Pittsburgh and the urge has come back like an ocean wave cascading over me time and again until sometimes it feels as if I just won't breathe until I'm out of here.  It has nothing to do with the city, the house, the people.  It has to do with what is inside of me, this urge for more, this urge for different.


Will I ever be satisfied with where I am?  Will I ever want to put down roots and see it as my forever city?  I've been asked that several times over the past year and the truth is, I don't know.  I'd like to think that if I found that city, that place that felt like home, I'd be set.  The closest I've ever felt to that feeling was Columbus, Ohio.  I loved it there.  I loved the city, the atmosphere, the people.  I loved it.  But did I love it because I was only there for a year and a half.  At five (six?) years, would I start to feel the urge again?  Would I want to move our family once again?

Or if we moved home to Toledo, would I be happy there?  Finally being surrounded by all of those that I love most - something I haven't had since I left home at 18?  Would that be the city that would finally quiet the urge?  Would my nomadic tendencies be shoved to the back and held down with the memories of life in other cities?


I am happy.  I'm a happy person who is happy in her life with her husband and her son.  I could learn to be happy anywhere as long as they were in the same home as me.  But content, I believe, is something that is felt when everything feels as if it fits into place.  When you can look back at the end of the day and think that everything is as it should be.  I feel that on some days.  I feel content.  But then on those other days, those days like today, I can see the wave in the distance threatening its resurgence.  And my heart starts beating more rapidly and my urge to flee, to once again be nomadic, resurfaces.  But I am trying.  I'm trying to find the contentedness.