It’s taking me way too long to figure out how life works. I don’t know if it’s because I’m a little slow or because I’ve leaned toward cliff-jumping: when in doubt, take a gamble.
The understanding that other people seem to have been born with evades me. For instance, am I really so busy or just incapable of keeping up with everything I stuff my life with? What about those years in my thirties when I did practically nothing? Was it really the blank it seems to be? Does it seem to have been idle only in comparison with now? Was I revving up for one crazy run up the ramp of the rest of my life? Or, most likely, was I recovering from a cliff-jump, hunting for my life, and finally, finding a job, buying a house, and starting to write books. Now that I think about it, not exactly nothing.
But now seems busier. I’d like to believe it’s because I really have reached some sort of activity peak. But I don’t think that’s the reason. I’ve always been capable of slacking off and now I can excuse it with this or that little ache or pain, a marriage I love, the feeling that maybe I’ve worked too hard all these post-thirtyish years and deserve a break. That’s all well and good, but if I take a couple days off, it’s hard to catch up. And then I wonder if I’m getting old and would have had no problem catching up 25 years ago. And then I catch myself and say, not mentally, don’t you dare age mentally. And then I catch myself again and say, but you forgot entirely to do thus and such.
The more I do the more I want to do and the more I want to do the more I think maybe I should take a nap.
Filed under: Shelley Singer |