Clarity
So, as I was drinking my sugar-free mocha, it suddenly occurred to me that I have been taking life way too seriously.
It wasn’t so long ago that I didn’t really give a fuck. I mean, I did, but after having my life turned upside-down and inside-out 7 or so years ago, I suddenly felt free to just be. To try things. To make mistakes. To really fuck up, dust myself off and get right back out there. Then, sometime between long ago and recently, I lost my way.
There is something about a long-term relationship that makes me sweat the small stuff. I get hung up on what I do for a living, what he does for a living, where we live, how we dress, how much weight I’ve gained . . . all of this, despite the fact that I tell myself that these things don’t matter. Somehow I stopped believing it.
While I was sitting here looking at pictures and the musings of others, I realized that I had allowed my thinking to get really fucking old. Sitting here, like a cranky old woman, growling to myself about regrets and should-have-beens.
I kept looking at pictures. Pictures of people being young. People not giving a fuck. People living in the moment. I thought to myself, I wish that was me, then realized, wait, that used to be me, what the fuck happened?
Well, the cause doesn’t really matter. I think it builds up like calcium deposits around the faucet; slow and imperceptible until it’s a disgusting crust that obstructs the opening.
It’s not so much about being young. At 15, 16, 17 I was bitter and cynical, like a curmudgeonly 40 or 50-something whose best years were always behind them. It took 10 more years for me to figure out that I was taking the joy out of my own life in tiny increments, leaving myself stranded on an island of suck.
It’s a really bad habit, like smoking, slowly giving myself mind-cancer.
Kyoko over at brain-food suggested making a bucket list and reflected on the experiences she has had as a result of pushing herself to get outside of her comfort zone and do things from her list. I used to live by that. Somewhere I lost my way. It’s never too late, though, that’s the beauty of it. Sometimes you find yourself halfway down your sugar-free mocha, and even though it’s been a really long time and you’re a little beat up, you’re still you. Now for that bucket list.
