I have a habit of getting ahead of myself. I think of it as a coping mechanism for feeling behind. When I see the success of other people, I don’t normally feel jealously. Instead, I feel rushed. For a brief moment, I believe that if I rush the doing, it will lead to quicker achieving and I, too could be like my successful counterparts. Although I know this is hardly ever the case, I get wrapped up in it and create anxiety for myself. It isn’t until I step back far enough, do I realize how ineffective this is. To see the haphazard efforts, to feel the anxiety pouring through the doing, and to know that it created nothing but stress is profoundly eyeopening.

I guess we are all just trying to find purpose in the world, some harder than others, and when we don’t see that happening, we feel we have failed ourselves. We see life as this finite entity that needs to be manipulated and forced into something worthwhile to put us in a “better,” more successful place. We take for granted the focused process of achieving a goal, the stepping stones that line up perfectly in time, and the enjoyment of just being alive here and now.

Every time I go through a major transition in my life or suffer some sort of loss of identity, I come back to this. I come back to the realization that this, right now, is all we will ever have. Tomorrow is an idea, the past is a memory. Everything that is important is happening right now and is as it is. Accepting this is incredibly liberating. It forges a path for true creativity, strength, and gratitude. It opens a gate through which only the brave walk through.

As you know, it’s scary not knowing what will happen next. So we speculate and we wait. We project, we try to understand. We try to see ourselves in a better life, only to miss the life we have right now. We are constantly waiting, like we do for trains and airplanes but always. When we read in bed, when we cook dinner. Always waiting for something better or more exciting, holding out for fleeting pleasures. Wasting our lives, killing ourselves but for what? A future we can’t see coming?

I don’t know exactly what the future will hold but I prefer it that way. I’m also not interested in living my life through the lens of the past anymore, as the life I once lived there no longer serves me. I learned from those mistakes, I grew from that suffering. It was merely a catalyst for a lifetime of growth.

So who gave me the idea that my life is some means to an end? The people who told me they’d be there for me tomorrow, someday. The promises they didn’t keep that I waited for. And myself, when I chose to wait for something better as an alternative to all the incredible moments happening today.

My life is not one to waste and knowing this brings me peace.





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