I started making lists again.
Not written down, just reiterated in my head like some sort of seductive mantra. Not a “fun” seductive. Seductive in the way a siren seduces you with eerily enticing music before sucking you down to your watery (and early) grave.
The list repeats. If I do X I can still attain Y by Z age.
It mutates. At the same time, if I practice A I can still become B by C time.
It’s helpful! Sometimes. My competitive edge benefits from a clearly defined end goal. I’ll work backwards, develop a structure with steps along the way…
But I halt. Echoes of “You’re not focused enough” “You aren’t qualified enough” “You won’t be ready in time” reverberate.
I push through. New murmurs join the mix. Thoughts of “I can work harder” “I’ll get my act together” “This will prove____…”
Why?
Why the living hell do I need to rush anything? Or check off anything at all? Yes, I have ambitions and personal passion, but the true and deep ones seem to have made increasingly rare appearances.
Again, why? My brain produces a therapy and social science-induced response that includes: my perfectionism, capitalism, fear/self doubt masquerading as service to others, etc.
Not this year. Too many lives lost. Too much love experienced. Too much freedom tasted to go back…
“It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”
Life is short. I don’t want to waste it calculating.
CarlyDreme 