Side Quests

Lately at work, people have been calling anything that branches off from the main objective a "side quest." It comes from video games. You're supposed to be saving the world, but somehow you end up helping someone find a lost key, delivering a package across town, or collecting ingredients for a potion before you can get back to what you were originally doing.

The more I heard people say it, the more I realized life works the same way.

I think our main quest changes depending on the season we're in. At different points in life it might be building a career, raising a family, healing from something difficult, or figuring out who we are. But underneath all of those, I think there's a bigger mission that stays the same. To live with integrity. To treat people with kindness. To become someone we're proud of when we look in the mirror.

The problem is that life is full of side quests, which can complicate things.

Some of them we choose. Learning a new hobby. Going back to school. Saving for a house. Chasing a promotion.

Others choose us. Losing someone we love. Caring for a sick family member. Facing health issues. Divorce. A stressful project at work. The things we never planned for but somehow become responsible for anyway.

For a long time, I thought the goal was to get through those side quests as quickly as possible so I could get back to my real life. I was always waiting for things to settle down. Once work gets less busy. Once this problem is solved. Once I feel better. Once life gets back to normal.

But what I've come to realize is that "back to normal" doesn't really exist.

Life doesn't pause while we work through the difficult parts. It keeps moving. We keep changing. Before one challenge is over, another one usually begins. The side quests don't interrupt life. They are life.

The biggest side quest I've ever been given wasn't changing my circumstances.

It was changing myself.

For years there were parts of my personality that I accepted without question.

That's just how I am.

I'm moody. I avoid conflict. I don't always say what I'm feeling because it feels easier to keep the peace. I overthink things. I worry too much about disappointing people.

Those traits became part of the story I told myself about who I was.

At some point, I realized we don't have to accept every part of ourselves if it's something we have the ability to change.

That was a difficult realization because it meant I couldn't keep blaming circumstances or other people for the things I wanted to change. If I wanted to become someone different, I had to make different choices. Sometimes that meant speaking up when it would have been easier to stay quiet. Sometimes it meant apologizing when my pride wanted to defend itself. Sometimes it meant admitting that the way I'd always handled something wasn't the way I wanted to handle it anymore.

The funny thing about change is that it usually isn't dramatic. It's choosing to respond differently to something that would've upset you six months ago. It's saying what you mean instead of hoping someone figures it out. It's learning that your feelings deserve a voice, even if someone else doesn't like what you have to say. It's realizing that "that's just who I am" doesn't have to be the end of the story.

I'm still somewhere in the middle of that side quest.

Some days I feel like I've made more progress than I ever thought I would. Other days I catch myself slipping back into old habits and old ways of thinking. It can feel discouraging. Sometimes it even feels like I've gone backwards.

Then I stop and remember where I started.

Progress isn't measured by never making the same mistake again. It's measured by how quickly you recognize it, how willing you are to own it, and whether you keep trying anyway.

That's the nature of change.

You can't wake up one morning and suddenly have everyone believe you've changed. You can't rewrite the version of yourself that exists in someone else's memories, and you can't erase old mistakes. The only version of yourself you have any control over is the one you're becoming today.

Sometimes you're the only person who notices the difference. That doesn't make it any less real.

Then one day you find yourself responding differently to something that used to consume you, and you realize you've been changing all along.

Somewhere between the unexpected detours, the difficult conversations, the heartbreaks, the setbacks, and the moments that forced me to look inward, I slowly started becoming someone different.

Maybe that's why I like the idea of side quests so much.

They were never distractions from the main story.

They were the story.