Now

Looking at most of my adult life, and even before, I pretty much remember everything compartmentally. The school time, the work time, the family time, the friends time. It all seems very categorically defined to say “this is what you do now, at this moment.” Then, whatever you’re doing at that moment is, obviously, a result of your love for that particular thing and the work you did to be able to get there in the first place. More simple, you work to have fun later; you go on vacation so you can be refreshed for work. Everything’s purpose, essentially, becomes the foundation for something else.

This works, this is a familiar routine for most people. We often think that if our lives were different, if we had free time all the time, or if only we had a job that we loved to do all the time, it would be different. We would be different. We think we’d finally lose that fifteen pounds, we’d finally read an entire book in less than 6 months, we’d have a clean house, we’d fall in love, we’d somehow—by upending our lives—find a Happily Ever After that we know is just beyond the reach of this… routine.

I have fallen into that, too. And in many, many ways, it’s true. We need some balance to our routines, we need time to reflect. I hope to always have room and time for growth and change. But what’s surprised me the most in these last six months that I’ve been “off” from the regular routine, is that there is no difference in the way that I am. There is no miraculous version of me that is waiting to unfold. Which is pretty reassuring, if not a little disappointing on the surface.

First, the disappointing part, because that’s what everyone is always scared to admit. Though I’ve suspected it for a while, I am not some brilliant talent that will explode from nothing to incredible overnight. The talent that I am, that I’ve always been, is just growing at it’s ever normal rate, getting better, and doing a hell of a lot more than even I give it credit for.

Which brings me to the reassuring part, the part that we have to remind ourselves is always there. For me, I have to watch that I don’t allow myself to be extremely disappointed by this. I struggle with the idea that right now, or maybe always, this elusive, hard-to-define, huge moment isn’t necessarily happening. That’s tough to realize, that for the time being, even just in my own mind, I get mediocrity. Or at least my definition of it, though I know a lot of people would disagree.

The important thing for me has been remembering that every day/month/part of this time is what’s leading to everything else. It’s all important. And while I see friends doing huge things, while I sit and plan out my huge things only in my head, I have to remember that what I’ve done is pretty huge, too. Even if it’s not the last thing I plan on doing. It’s now. I have time for now.