I'm continually amazed at how most people seem to get life. They just seem to do it so well. All of the hard corners and spiky edges don’t seem to dig into their soul, the way they do in mine. Personally, I’m impressed when people just manage to get dressed and show up, but society in general expects more than that.
I don’t notice what people wear or what car they drive. I generally don’t know where all my various technology bits are, or whether they’re updated, or charged, or whatever. I’ve got all my energy on figuring out where I’m supposed to be, listening when I get there, and not running into any walls or tables or chairs (or cars) along the way.
I’ve always thought I would die young, mostly because to me, life has always felt really, really hard. I’ve always secretly felt kind of bad at it. I’m too sensitive and scattered and messy, and all my pieces have never felt all that together. I just assumed God wouldn’t throw me down here, all wander-y and confused, and leave me.
Now that I’m actually accepting the fact that I might live a long and healthy life, two things are happening.
First, I’m afraid that now that I want to live, I’ll find out I actually am dying of some esoteric disease. Because life is ironic that way. (Cue the forboding joy). Yes, I know how crazy that sounds. It is what it is. You'll either be the kind of person that totally gets it, or you won't.
Second, for the first time I’m actually looking into my future as a real, long possibility. Sometimes the days stretch out before me like the yellow brick road to Oz, and other days they stack up, one on top of the other, until I can’t see their end, a mountain of weighty gifts.
That’s why I love the name of my blog so much: 2day I choose. What will I choose today, this day, the only one I have for sure? Will I choose laughter or anger? Joy or scarcity? Love or fear?
What about you?