I don’t think about the future much anymore. I used to. I used to look forward to my imaginary future, the one I wanted. But I’ve sort of realised that the future we want for ourselves is not necessarily the future we get. And there’s nothing wrong with having goals, and plans. But they have to be realistic. Within reason, and capability. If we spend our lives waiting for the future, we’re going to completely miss the present.
The present is not always a good place to be. Sometimes we’re sick, or we have a bad day, or we just don’t want to move from bed, and all we want is for it to be over, so we can move past whatever is holding us down, or holding us back. But I guess you have to take the bad days with the good, and just be thankful that you have days, regardless.
There are things I want, and I know it’s going to take work to get them. But I’m not stressing about it. I’ve talked about this before, I know. But it’s the first time I can remember being ok with things to such a finite degree. I feel as though this weight has been lifted from my shoulders, a weight I was so used to that I didn’t even notice it was dragging me down until it was gone. I went from sinking slowly but surely to the bottom of a metaphorical pit of nothingness, to rising well up and out of it. It’s a good place to be, up here. I think I might stay a while.