The Parts of Ourselves We Stop Visiting

During our week in London, our hotel was just steps away from a Tube station on the Bakerloo line.

Every morning, we'd tap our cards, head down the escalator, and board a northbound train. Most days, we'd transfer at Embankment and continue on our way.

At the beginning of the trip, my mother-in-law was pretty overwhelmed by the Tube system. She kept saying how grateful she was that Chris and I seemed to be figuring it out.

Then, a few days into the trip, we boarded our train and turned to remind her about our transfer.

Before we could say a word, she smiled and said, "I know. Embankment."

We laughed.

It was my first sign that we'd gotten into a routine.

And that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Routines can make life easier. They help us navigate unfamiliar territory. They create a sense of comfort and predictability.

But as I sat on the Tube that day, looking at the map above the door, I noticed something else.

Elephant & Castle

It felt like we'd seen a lot of London.  We'd certainly done a lot of London sights.

But we'd mostly traveled on the same two or three Tube lines, visiting only a small fraction of the stations available to us.

There were dozens of places we hadn't explored.

I remember staring at the map and thinking about one stop in particular.

Elephant & Castle.

We'd never been there.  It was on our line, southbound instead of northbound. And it wasn’t far.  In fact, it was only one stop away from where we usually started and ended our days.

I had no idea what was at Elephant & Castle.  But the name alone made me curious.  

And as I sat there looking at that Tube map, I realized that life can be a lot like that.

We start out with all kinds of interests, possibilities, relationships, dreams, and curiosities.

Then life gets busy.

We build careers.  We raise children.  We care for aging parents.

We go to work.  We go to church.  We go to the grocery store.  

We show up for our spouses, friends, coworkers, clients, neighbors, and communities.

We do what needs to be done.

We become dependable.  Responsible.  Capable.

And over time, we begin traveling the same routes.

That’s not inherently wrong or bad.  But over time, our world can become smaller than it once was.  

Little by little, some of the stations stop appearing in our regular travels.

Play.

Creativity.

Friendships.

Curiosity.

Rest.

Hobbies.

Exploration.

The things that bring us energy and make us feel more fully ourselves.

Everything. Nothing?

A few years ago, I found myself journaling late one evening because I felt unsettled.

This was in March of 2020, just before the world shut down because of COVID.  Sure, I was partly unsettled because of the news reports of this new virus spreading across the world.  But as I re-read that entry, it’s very clear to me that there was a lot more going on in my life and churning within me than just pre-pandemic concern.

These lines stood out to me:

What's wrong? Everything. Nothing?

I feel so stuck.

I don’t know what to do about ANY of this.  And even if I knew what to do, I’m not sure I have the energy to do any of it.  So I’ll just keep floating adrift.  Aimless.  Purposeless.

I couldn't point to just one specific problem.

From the outside, my life looked fine.  Nothing was dramatically wrong.

But everything felt off.  

Looking back now, I don't think I was adrift. I was stuck traveling the same routes, and I was beginning to realize how much of the map I was no longer exploring.

I think I had simply stopped visiting some important parts of myself.

They Remember

And I see versions of that same experience all the time in coaching conversations.

People often come to coaching feeling disconnected from themselves.

They talk about low energy.

A lack of joy.

A nagging sense that something is missing.

Sometimes they wonder if this is just what life is now.

But here's what I've noticed.

Give people a little space.

Give them permission to pause.

Ask a thoughtful question.

And suddenly they remember.

One person wants more time in her garden.

Another dreams of creating a comfortable chair and corner in her home where she can pray, reflect, journal, or simply sit.

Someone else misses a hobby they haven't touched in years.

Others want more meaningful time with a spouse, children, or grandchildren.

The answers are often surprisingly ordinary.  And that's what makes them so powerful.

The parts of ourselves we miss most are not usually dramatic. They're the simple things that help us feel alive.

The good news is that those parts of us are often still there.

Waiting. Not gone. Just neglected.

One Stop Away

At the end of our trip, I decided to do something a little silly.

On our last evening in London, I intentionally chose a Tube route that would take us through Elephant & Castle.

Not because it was the fastest route or because I had a compelling reason.

I was simply curious.

I wanted to see what was there.

It wasn't a life-changing decision.

But maybe that's part of the point.

Sometimes we think change has to be dramatic.

Sometimes we imagine we need a whole new life.

But maybe the first step is simply pulling out the map and noticing that there are more routes available than the ones we've been traveling.

There may be other stations worth exploring. Closer than we think.

Maybe there are parts of ourselves we haven't visited in a while.

Maybe there are interests, relationships, dreams, gifts, or possibilities that deserve another look.

Maybe they're still there, waiting for us to stop by again.

So here's the question I've been pondering:

If you looked at the map of your own life right now, what station haven't you visited lately?

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