Skip to main content

What are you waiting for?

I've never been a particularly patient person. Lately, I feel like I'm always waiting for something. What am I waiting for? For answers, for direction, for change, for relief, for help, for understanding? For motivation? For peace, for calm, for assurance? For all of the above?

Life seems like an endless game of waiting. Waiting for bedtime. Waiting for the end of the day. Waiting for the weekend. Waiting for this or that to be over. Waiting for this or that to begin. Always and ever moving on to the next thing and the next thing. The present moment wished away because surely the next moment will be better. Tomorrow will be better. The weekend will be better. Summer will be better. Something that's unclear will become clear if only I just keep waiting. 

But I think sometimes the moment holds the answers that we continue to put off. The trick is that it's hard to sit still in this moment. It's hard to give up the anticipation of what's coming and immerse oneself in what already is. I fall into the trap of believing that something, somewhere, or someone else is better than the something, somewhere or someone that's right in front of me. When I sit still in this moment, my anxiety skyrockets. Everything I am fights the moment so that I only want desperately for it to pass, until all the moments are nothing but a rushing wind flying by, indistinguishable colors and shapes. 

Is this what I want my life to be? When do I stop and finally demand from the moment, instead of procrastinating, wishing for the future by forfeiting my life, moment by moment.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

8 Things I Wish I Could Tell You About Being a Single Mom

Well, here it is, November, and I haven't written a word since April. Not that it hasn't occurred to me. I was busy working and somewhat enjoying my "summer break" and then school started again and BAM, ice and snow everywhere. Luckily for the 12 people who read this blog, today I drank an extra large cup of caramel macchiato from the local gas station at four o clock in the afternoon, so I am ready to write. Besides the copious amount of caffeine I've consumed, the major inspiration for this post is actually something that has been rattling around in my head for sometime now. Maybe it's because I spend a lot of time sitting around feeling sorry for myself (hahahahaha! Time. See, it's a joke because I actually have no time ever. See: opening sentence) but mostly it's because it's pretty personal and I have a hard time bringing it up without feeling like a total Debbie Downer pity-party, complete with cheese and whine (not the good wine that I li...
Post a Comment
Read more

Tell Me About Your Kids Sometime

A few days ago, I went to a movie with an acquaintance and afterward, we decided mutually that we should get to know each other better, which, considering my lack of an active social circle, can't possibly be a bad thing. (Shut up, anxiety. I'm trying to knock those walls down. ) We were exchanging questions and he said, "You'll have to tell me about [your son] sometime." A few moments later he added, "...and your girls. They clearly have your heart." That first sentence, blinking bright against the black on my iPhone struck me so profoundly. It's a simple request. "Tell me about your son." The innocuous reason he asked that question was simply because he knows that my son is important to me and wants to know more about the people I care about. However, when I read it, it struck me how I would seriously answer what my children truly mean to me and how I would honestly describe them. Not in the funny things they do, or the sweet things th...
2 comments
Read more

Someday My Prince Will Come

How cliched, I know. When I was young, I was not fussy about relationships. I was low maintenance if there ever was such a thing, in part because of my fierce independent (read: stubborn) streak and a complete aversion to frivolity. I was never the girl who got highlights in her hair and spent hours on clothes and makeup each morning. I shopped at thrift stores and went to school with my hair wet 50% of the time. My requirements for "boyfriend" material were that they hold my hand sometimes and be smart enough to talk to for hours on end. I didn't seek out the best looking, I didn't expect gifts or showering, I understood not being top priority and I didn't need someone to  emotionally support me. I was a tough chick who could take care of herself, thank you very much. It should come as no surprise then, that I married a man who allowed me to take care of everything in our lives. My teenage self would have loved that, being responsible for the house, the bills,...
2 comments
Read more