When did it all get so hard?
Life hasn’t gotten harder. We’ve embraced struggle like it’s a right of passage, from responsible adulthood into the golden years of wisdom.
We are wise. We know the truth. We have buried it beneath SUVs, SAT prep courses, boot camp in the park, and Xanax. We have forgotten.
My kid isn’t sitting still and focusing in class. He’s different than the other kids.
My bathroom has tile from the 1980’s. And while I’m at it, I need 4 shower heads in my shower.
Putting in overtime shows my dedication to my job. I’ll take my kids to the park this weekend.
Baseball season is over. I need to sign him up for speed and agility training and get him a batting coach so he’s ready for spring ball.
My mother is sick. I don’t have time to go see her, but I’ll find the time.
I have 67 shows in queue on my DVR and 2,314 emails in my inbox.
I can’t sleep without an Ambien. Thank goodness for Ambien.
I keep Advil in my car so I can wash down a few with my super-sized diet Coke because I have chronic headaches.
My kids each have 4 social media accounts and I have no idea what their passwords are. I hope they’re making good choices.
The dog threw up again. What is that animal getting in to? It could be anything with the house in this state of chaos all the time.
I missed breakfast again today. Some days I feel like I’m running on protein bars and bottomless cups of coffee.
It takes me the first 2 days of vacation to relax, only to start thinking about all I have to do when I get back 2 days before I leave to go home.
Life hasn’t gotten harder. The world around us is more complex, yes. There are choices and opportunities and beautiful, sparkly things that catch our eye—more than ever before. Yes.
But life is still quite simple.
Challenge the rules and the expectations. Make sure they serve you. If they don’t, then pave your own path. Or go back down the dirt road of a simpler time. We’ve lost touch with who we really are. Our choices don’t reflect our real priorities. We’re burning ourselves out and throwing lighter fluid on the fire to put it out.
Stop. Slow the fuck down. Don’t listen to the voice that tells you
“this is what you should do”
“you can’t afford the time it takes”
“you have to keep up or you’ll fall so far behind you’ll never recover”
You are safe.
You are loved.
You are breathing. Notice—in…and out. In again…and out. It just happens.
Look at the sky. Don’t look away—gaze a little longer.
Look at the ground. Your feet on the Earth. Wait—gaze a little longer.
Put your hand on someone’s hand.
Give it a little squeeze, and leave it there.
You are so wise.