I was thinking about this the other day as I was getting angry about "wasting" money. I don't even remember now what the particular item was that had gotten me angry. It didn't matter. It could have been anything. An article of clothing I bought and never wore, food left too long in the refrigerator, something purchased online, only to discover a better deal on said item the very next day. Wasting money angers me. I don't like it. Money is important, and I never feel like I have enough of it. The pursuit of happiness has always felt tied to the pursuit of money to me. But why? I was not born desiring money. Neither were you. None of us come into this world even aware that money exists, or that we will need it, sometimes desperately, to get on in life.
Then I started to laugh. I realized that I had wasted a good chunk of time being angry about wasting that money. A good chunk of time that I could have used to do something else. A good chunk of time that I will never get back. Wait! What? Why was the money more important than the time? I started to think about this.
When I was young it seemed there was all the time in the world. I didn't really think about it. Summer days stretched on for weeks. Dreams were dreamed and plans were made for "someday". Someday I'll see Paris, someday I'll take a cruise to Alaska, someday I'll live in a cabin by a lake ...... someday was very possible. Meanwhile, I grew up. got a job and put '"someday" to the back of my mind. All the time in the world.
The husband and the house came. “Someday” had to wait.
The child came. “Someday” had to wait.
The divorce came. “Someday” had to wait. (I know, you’d have thought that would have been the perfect time – but there were bills to pay – a house and child to care for – gotta be responsible.)
Then the grandchildren came. “Someday” most definitely had to wait.
Thirty years later and I am still waiting for “someday”.
I had my world turned upside down two days ago. Everything I had imagined for my future was not going to happen – as I saw it. I’ve been planning my imaginary future for some time now. Imagining all sorts of things that have never/will never happen. Why? Because they relied on someone else to play the role I imagined for them! I had not been in control of my own ship for a very long time. My “someday” was built upon someone else’s action. I was waiting, spending my time, my currency of life, as a martyr to my own imaginings, unable to move forward based upon the story I had imagined my life would be. But it wasn’t. It isn’t. It most likely never will be, the way I imagined it. (Yes, as often is the case, I felt justified and “right” in my suffering)
I realize now that I was missing a key component. Action. All the imagination in the world won’t get you anywhere without the action to bring it to fruition. Some of my imaginary life may have had a chance if I had stuffed my fear of rejection (?) and stepped out. Well, THE END was written two days ago. Best thing that could have happened to me. I think when I am done grieving all that never was I will begin to see the gift that this truly is.
Funny thing, I was never angry about wasting all that time. Not like the anger I felt over wasting that money. What’s wrong with me? I should be very, very angry about wasting that time. I am never, ever going to get it back. Money? Sure, I can make more money. Time is limited and we never know how much we have. What’s even worse, that wasted time was spent waiting. Waiting for others to start playing the role I imagined for them. Waiting for my life to start. Waiting for my story to begin. WAITING! I never once made an effort to affect the imaginary storyline, to push it into the realm of possibility. Oh God, how much time I wasted. And now, that story is over. Mercifully.
I still have time. Time to LIVE my true story, not WAIT on the imaginary one.
Life’s currency is not money – it is time! To fully spend in each and every moment. Madly and without abandon. The years of waiting are over.
Carpe Diem.
And no (more) regrets.
© 2015 Anne Faulkner | it came with the head | all rights reserved
No comments:
Post a Comment