The end of the year I mean. It keeps coming back with monotonous regularity and too fast for my liking but I have never complained….till recently ie. Infact I have always looked ahead and ushered the new year in with a lot of fanfare. Then it was exciting and there were lots of possibilities. But now it sort of…I mean the end of the year depresses me when I think about it.
Years are just flying past. And I’m not so sure I like it.
Actually I don’t. Not one bit.Stop. Slow down. What’s the big hurry dammit????
I really don’t know why I’m panicking. I’m so afraid time is running out on me, afraid that I’ll die without achieving anything. Accomplishing nothing. Achievements & accomplishments not measured in terms of a good job, position or status, more like a need within me to give back to Society what I have received. To make a difference. To feel worthy. To satisfy a hunger clawing at my insides….like it’s something I need to do.It gets a 100 times worse when I think about it at night. Especially when I can’t sleep. Every fear is magnified and the darkness makes me feel like I’m all alone even though my loved ones are all around me. But well….they are sleeping.
Daylight brings with it a clarity wherein I console myself there is time. Lots of time. Like decades and decades stretching ahead of me to do whatever I want to. Why, take my mother who is in her 60’s……. she’s so in her element now. Almost half of her life she stayed home & took care of her family. I used to wonder secretly how she could be so content to play homemaker when she could have put her teaching degree to good use. But she says she never regretted it and just look at her now, always busy with her church meetings, conferences, voluntary work and her friends, not to forget her determination to stay in shape. I’m just so in awe of her. I hope to be atleast half of what she is when I reach that age.Most of the time I’m content with what I have. I know that compared to many others I’m so blessed. But there is this niggling thought which refuses to go away. A thought that reminds me that I’m capable of much more and am probably wasting away the best years of my life. Alright there are no regrets when I look at it from the point of view of a mother; I’m so glad I have the choice of being a hands-on mother. I have no lofty ideals for my children; if they grow up to be grounded beings with their heart in the right place I’d consider it a job well-done.
In a couple of years I’ll be four zero. That’s like half my life over. And nothing to show for it.
Atleast that’s what it feels like.….
Then again I pause to think….
Why can’t I be satisfied with what I have????
Why I am not able to convince myself that to reach out for more is not a crime???Am I looking at the whole picture or missing out on important details???
Why do thoughts have to be so conflicting???