Living for Today
In my preteen and teen years, I was obsessed with the apocalypse. After navigating through some challenging personal circumstances, I thought that if I read prophecies that I might be able to see what was coming. I would worry in advance, thinking that process would prepare me to navigate the inevitable catastrophes coming my way. Kinda morbid, right? It’s the ultimate in self-fulfilling prophecies, though. When something bad finally did happen, I could take comfort in the fact that I was right to prepare. An anxiety-ridden, risk-averse and totally miserable inner world, but at least I had my self-righteousness in tact. ☺
That person was so busy nurturing pain and building walls around herself that she couldn’t appreciate the new friend who was trying to reach her or the boy that treated her well in hopes of a long-term attachment. I couldn’t see new opportunities for love, only the potential for pain. And not only pain I would feel, but pain I felt destined to deliver. Loss and failed relationships left me feeling damaged and I can remember pushing people away to avoid becoming their ground zero. I loved them too much to be the source of their future pain. How odd that I could simultaneously think I’m all-powerful in some ways and completely powerless in others.
There’s a common thread in that story, though – the relentless focus on the past and future and complete disregard for the present moment. If you think about it, the present moment is the only real point in time. The past is gone; those moments have already been ‘lived.’ The only way you can keep living them is to resurrect them daily in the way you think about your life. My parents have passed on, but does being an ‘orphan’ have to be the operating system running in the background of every day? Or can I re-write that script to focus on the remaining family members and the family that I’ve created out of deep friendships? HUGE difference in those two narratives - one is tragic (focused on the past) and one grateful (the present), but they are both real and true.
It took me a long time to realize that the way I look at my life (and myself) matters. I haven’t mastered my outlook yet, but I can usually see when I need a re-boot. It’s time to let go a bit and focus on the breath I’m taking as I write this and on the beauty of this moment, which wasn’t promised, but was gifted to me.
