Year 25.

As far as inspiration goes, and whether or not it comes in waves or merely trickles steadily on, this past week I was lucky enough to get a mountain's worth, an overflow, a beacon flame in the dark. It would be fair and accurate to state that I haven't been feeling up to the challenges I encounter, even less so lately. And turning certain corners to find myself face to face with the fact of time is something I trained myself to fear, not anticipate. To dread, even. Another year gone by, even a month, a week, a day, is suddenly more passage that suddenly demands my intentions, that wants to know if I've made the most of what's before me, if I've achieved my goals and carried on.

One of the things people will never tell you about goals is that self-motivation is only a mere sliver, one tiny particle, the smallest element in any concoction. Yes, it's what sets everything off, or in place, or makes the world go round and round. It is the largest necessity yet with the smallest of influences, and still nothing would get along without it. But (because you knew there would be one), it isn't everything. All the motivation and list-making in the world won't change, well, the world. Waiting for everyone else to get on board is the tricky part, and the weary part, and the thing that makes our hearts tired, our minds twisted, and our inspiration flicker. It's the catch-twenty-two of all things, and even knowing so won't stop us from falling towards the lure, of giving in, of shrugging our tired shoulders as if to say, so what, it's not that bad. 

While I have yet to reach that state of melancholy, because (I'm finding this will be the politest possible way to say this) there is no chance in hell I could ever feel any satisfaction, whether initially or over time, when a green apron and a wailing siren are involved. Still, there is truth when I admit it has become more difficult to keep my head up against this storm in which I've been standing. Some days are less aggressive, some days I have no idea how I'll make it out intact. Today, I'm drenched, but I can keep up. 

What I've found to be the biggest support that creates the greatest good is having anyone around you, in your life, before you or behind you, who believes you are capable of the things you want. It doesn't take much to lose your own faith in your abilities, in your own self. Personally speaking, one wrong move, one more rejection shot, one more someone-else-got-there-before-me, and suddenly I'm sitting outside during my lunch break, sobbing on the phone, speaking incoherently, mascara everywhere. It's the goddamn truth, it is. While I must admit we all may need a moment like that every now and then, if for no other reason but to remind us of our craziness, to reground us temporarily, what would be better is if we could, despite the surroundings, remember what we are good at, what we can achieve, what we label, in glitter paint and glue, as our strengths. 

That way, when the clarity becomes the hazy, and we're sure that there is nothing else for us, we have those nearby to re-guide us to where we've gone off track, to remind us of what our tantrums have made us lose sight of, to gently chide us, to shove us towards what we're meant for, to forgive us for forgetting. They understand our frustration, they know how forcing patience bends us to discomfort, they agree that the other factors should hurry along, should catch up to what we wish was already happening and make this transition smoother, more bearable, faster. 


So with another notch on the wall, another year of wandering about to add to my written repertoire, to chalk up on the board of my life experience, I find, without hesitation, that I have not wasted one minute. How do I know? Circumstances aside, or imagining them differently, doesn't take away from what I DO have, the invaluable things, the things that people long for all their lives. Would I tweak a few things here and there, would I add a new backdrop or blur some lines, sure. Are things like I imagined they would be at 25, or at all, for that matter? No; but then again, they never are. Changing my job won't change my life. It could improve it, and make no mistake, I'm not giving up. But what I have now, the big and small pieces of my life that create me, support me, hold me fast, those things at the heart of the matter, where it means the most, are where I truly find my happiness. It's my constant choice, one we have to make in spite of, not because of. If we're basing our joys on what surrounds us, the list goes on and on of reasons to cross our arms in a huff, hate everything, and refuse change. So if we can't have things in the timing we desire, the least (AND most) we can do is celebrate the aspects of our lives we're already lucky to have. It's important, it will fuel us, it will bring us closer to what we want, it will guide us. Probably in a different way than we think is best, probably through darkness and peril and times of loneliness. In the end, though. Wherever the end is, whatever labels we've acquired, skills, experiences, losses, it is all that we are. Forgetting that for just a second would be the waste. Wishing to undo what we've gone through, what challenges us daily, would be a lot less interesting, a lot less motivating, a duller version of the lives we're blessed to lead. It's not perfect, nor will it ever be. But it is very, very good.  

A fantastic print, which I will aim to live by, that was given to me by my love.