Meredith’s Musings | The Hamster Wheel

article by MEREDITH MCKINNIE

Perhaps it’s a sign of a privileged life, but I first felt like an adult when I flew across the country alone. I remember exiting the plane at O’Hare International, walking under all the colorful flags and thinking, “It’s all on me.” To be clear, I was a gasp away from turning 30 years old, recently divorced, and childless. And still, travel is what exposed the reality of living my life undergirded by a substantial safety net. Now over a decade later, I still get this little tingle when I travel, particularly on solo trips. Such was my experience last October in Vegas. In town for an academic conference, and anticipating rest and relaxation, as opposed to sin and debauchery, I couldn’t wait to get into my room, check out the view, and have only one must-do (my presentation) for the next 3 days.

I’m not sure if it’s motherhood or being 40 with an adult job, but I just feel like every morning, I climb on the hamster wheel and start running, inspired by the chance of getting a head start on the day’s mundane and repetitive tasks. With the opportunities for creativity and spontaneity few and far between, I long for moments of rest. And while I know rest is key to happiness and productivity, I’m so American and southern in feeling I have to earn my rest. But on vacations, I tap into the newness. Absent the hamster wheel and human dependents, I can focus solely on me. And Alone Meredith is a Meredith I like to be around.

Alone Meredith relaxes under the shower head, removes her earbuds, and bravely sinks into silence. Alone Meredith pauses her morning makeup application to dance to Stevie Nicks, a playlist rarely indulged back home. Alone Meredith coats her entire body in lotion and performs pirouettes free of the confinement of clothes. Alone Meredith talks to herself while people-watching, as if composing journal entries in her head. Alone Meredith lingers on sidewalks, shops without a list, steps out for dinner without a destination, and notices the sun setting. She smiles at strangers and speaks first to passersby. Alone Meredith engages conversation without vying for the exit ramp; she listens because she wants to connect – she feels like she has time.

After days spent walking the Vegas Strip, perusing in and out of the elaborate hotels, dining at random, and indulging sleep after physical (rather than mental) exhaustion, I slept so soundly and purposefully. I’d wake up feeling like those women in the movies who leap out of bed excited for a day absent an agenda. I realize I am simply describing the feeling of being on vacation, but I couldn’t help feeling like I’m more myself (or at least the self I want to be) when I’m away from the life I intentionally built. Why can’t I be this version of me at home? Why can’t I step off the wheel? Why am I so religiously obedient to social norms, yet determined to control every situation, and loathing every predetermined second? I love my life, and particularly the people in it, but I don’t always love how I act in this designed life. I don’t like how I feel and perform.

I have everything I’ve ever professed to want, and yet I feel restless too often. I find myself saying phrases like, “I just want to get on I20 and keep driving.” You know how before takeoff; hot air balloons are tethered to the ground. That’s how I often feel, confined by little strings, afraid of clipping the wrong one and drifting off into the abyss. When life forces me to untether, I lean into living. I want to bring Alone Meredith to my every day. I want the freedom to just be instead of having to be on. And I know it’s entirely in my power. I just need to summon the courage to step off.