I have an unreasonably vivid imagination. And there are a number of times in my life when I can recall it getting me into trouble.
Growing up in the 90s, like any good Midwestern family, we drove to all of our vacation destinations. Myrtle Beach, Florida (a lot), even out to South Dakota. Days in a van with my parents and siblings.
I have no idea how I survived that boredom. What I do remember is how all that time without stimulation activated my creative energy.
There’s one trip I remember well. Rather than spend yet another summer vacation on the beaches of Sarasota, my parents decided to drive us out west to South Dakota. We’d visit the Badlands, we’d get to see Mount Rushmore, and the part I was most excited about, we’d get to sleep in a cabin.
When my 7 (ish) year old self heard this, I was over the moon. I had never stayed in a cabin before. I doubt I’d even seen a cabin before minus the cabins I’d built out of Lincoln Logs.
In my head, as we pulled into South Dakota (kids have no concept of scale), we’d wind through miles of forest and arrive at a single, perfectly secluded cabin.
The thought freaks me out now. No way I’d stay in a cabin that secluded. But my mini-brain was all about it.
I must have spent hours asking my parents questions about where we were staying, like they had any clue. That image lodged itself in my head and refused to leave.
As our journey drew to a close, we pulled up not to a murderer’s hideout, but a community of cabins tucked away in the mountains. Cute and quaint as they were, my heart shattered as it hit the floor.
My imagination had inflated things so much, reality never stood a chance. I’m sure I let my parents know my disappointment, which just adds to my lingering feelings of despair.
There were countless times in my childhood, teens, and 20s when I would let my anticipation for an event run amuck. I did this with vacations, with movies, and I’ve even done it with relationships.
Today, I still let myself get excited. But now I’ve learned to not build the cabin before I arrive.
The Cabin That Broke My Heart
In the 40 days leading up to my 40th birthday, I’m sharing 40 lessons I’ve learned over 40 years. One each day. Some are stories. Some are truths. All of them are Letters to my Former Self—and maybe yours too. You can view all stories in this series by tapping here.
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