What You Feel When You Aren't There Yet
Hint: Not comfy
Lately, the weight of time has been heavy on my shoulders, leaving me questioning some life choices and the paths I've wandered. There are nights I lie awake, pondering if my life’s endeavors will stand the test of time. Hint: nope.
The decision to buy a house later in life often feels like an anchor—a reminder of waiting, of choices delayed. Then there's the theatre company I've poured my heart and soul into, and I can't help but wonder if it is strong enough to transition to new, fresh, communal leadership. I've noticed these sentiments spilling into even the minutiae of my day, as I question whether my daily tasks are truly productive or just another form of maintenance.
My career as a professor and teacher, too, has been, uh, strange. The classrooms have been never better. But everything else — committee work, service, program development — whoa. With my institution undergoing transformative changes, there’s a whisper in the back of my mind asking if all those years, all that passion, was well-placed. Or was it a controlled burn, a necessary process to metabolize past experiences, and fuel the next chapter of my journey?
Yet, as I contemplate these concerns, I remember that life is not just about final destinations—it's about the process, the transitions. It's about the gatherings, the moments of belonging, and the interludes of self-reflection and growth. And isn’t it possible that my recent unease isn't a sign of wasted time but rather a symptom of being in transition? Hint: also yes.
Perhaps it's time to shift my perspective, to see these thoughts not as regrets but as sparks of insight, guiding me toward more deliberate choices, deeper connections, and genuine presence in my own life. After all, life's transitions, its controlled burns, offer not just challenges but opportunities—to reimagine, rebuild, and rekindle our passions. It's a dance between the flames of doubt and the winds of hope, and I am still learning the steps.