Lately, I’ve been noticing how much more time we can have than I ever thought. It always seemed like we had to have our whole lives decided by 18 so we could go to college and get a career in order to support a family. But I’ve been looking at my parents and my husband’s parents and my friends and my grandma. They’re all living life at different stages. They’re all doing new things and experiencing new things. It’s not like they’re following some set plan. They may have thought they were at some point, but whatever path they laid out for themselves has long since been abandoned.
I feel like I’m just blabbering and not making much of a point. Anxiety and depression have been a constant companion of mine. They hang over me telling me I’ve messed up my past and I’m messing up my future. But the truth is, I don’t know how much time I have. I could be almost done with my journey or I could only be a quarter of the way through. What’s the point in feeling like I have to rush life and do everything perfectly if I have no idea when it’ll end? Working off the theory that I’ll die when I’m in my 80s just means I might die at 30 stressing out about what I’m doing with my life. I want to die at any time okay with who I am.
Time goes fast, but not really as fast as everyone claims if you can enjoy it. Living for the weekend does make things go by much faster than necessary. You only have 104 days that you enjoy every year if that’s the case. Why do that? Why not find something to enjoy every day?
I get there are situations where that may seem impossible. But I know it’s not always impossible. I just want to break the chains I feel around me and enjoy living, even with all the bad things that have happened.
I’m taking it one day at a time. And one day at a time makes it feel like there’s a whole lot more to life than what I’ve been told.
Mindfulish Butterfly 