I have run out of optimism for this 24 hour period. It will get replenished. My blood sugar will go up, because I have food, a blessing it is too easy to ignore. At some point I will sleep and morning is a unique, inextinguishable benediction. In the course of this evening, there will be company that will lift my spirits. But in this moment, in this gratefully transient now, my mental wheels are spinning in a tired muddy rut, too often visited in the past several weeks: there’s some stuff I think I want in this life that I just might never get to. It might forever be beyond my reach, or the wrong shape for my available time, or it just may abruptly be gone in the wake of the continuous and escalating conflict (with truly devastating weapons) humans have sown in the last 50 years.
I’ve got the mantras down: Live each day as it comes. Think happy thoughts. Believe in yourself. It’s never too late for your dreams. I am as genuinely Pollyanna and glass-half-full as anyone who has met their darkest alternative and been glad to find their way back. But I am not infinitely courageous. Sometimes the lamp gutters to stillness for dark moments long enough to let doubt creep in. Which is where I’m standing now. Not frightened. Just concerned. Playing the what if game, but only sounding the sad alternatives.
Fretting that something may never happen is always my impatience speaking, and often my id shaming my ego for her practicality.
There is only one answer to the naively pining “But what if I never make it?” A jaded, possibly scoffing, gimlet-eyed query, “Yeah? So what?”
So what? So what are you going to do now? You’re still living and doing. So what? Are you disrespecting everything you gained and learned from the effort you made? So what difference does it make? And feeling bad for some unknown future outcome? So what the hell is that?
Yes. I take your point.