If you were given a glimpse into the future for whatever reason or purpose, would you? Would the mere temptation of knowing something that will happen before it happens entice you to take that chance? What if what you were shown or told or given for that matter was of pure devastation to yourself? Or the world for that matter? Would you still want to know?
My answer would be a resounding no. I will admit that there is an allure to the unknown and finding out what lies ahead, but it isn’t worth it. What would it change for me in my current state? How would it help? Would it somehow offer a confirmation that there is something amazing to be had, or not amazing? Perhaps nothing changes and it’s the same day in and day out, or maybe the world does not exist and our planet along with it.
It wouldn’t change anything to know as it is not to know. They say that tragedy opens a door to those too self absorbed to see what they have right in front of them and to make every day the fullest. Yet, it shouldn’t take tragedy for that to happen. We should already be living that way, shouldn’t we?
But most of us don’t. I can admit to it that I, myself, take most days for granted. Not because I want to or simply because I don’t care, but simply because even though I know I should, I can’t seem to because there is always something that is needed to be done. Laundry to fold, breakfast to be made, a house that needs cleaning, appointments, school, work, being a parent—we are so involved in the busy to really slow down and not take a look around us. We pride ourselves on how far the human race has evolved since the big bang, but we throw pieces of ourselves away every day and don’t even know it. We pretend we do, but in all reality, we just don’t.
Think about it, if it was so easy to live each day with every ounce you have, with no complaints, reservations, anger, resentment, confusion, hurt, heartbreak, stress, anxiety, the overwhelming need to be a people pleaser, while pretending not to care that Karen just told you stripes weren’t flattering on your body style—any emotional baggage what so ever, the world might actually give a f*ck. People would actually be civil, robots mind you, but civil robots. We would just go about our day with no quill about what lies ahead, or in the past or even the right now, we would just be simple and robot along with no actual cares, wants, needs, desires or emotional attachment that will late cost you thousands, upon thousands of dollars in therapy later.
I sometimes imagine life as a cat. I think if I was reincarnated one day, I would like to come back as a lazy, fat house cat. They seem to have it all together and don’t care one catnip if Karen thought stripes weren’t appealing on their body. They would simply just give you the evil eye and make mental note t sit on your head in the middle of the night or wander the halls at 5 am singing the song of their people.
Like, that’s the life right there. Just hanging out, sleeping all day, causing mischief and havoc in the night. Owning every piece of furniture your paws touch, included the clean laundry that is waiting to be folded in the basket. If I was a cat, damn, the things I would do.
But alas, I am not a cat. I am me. An emotional baggage of a woman who holds unresolved resentment for not switching over the laundry loads like I requested and letting them sit overnight resulting in having to rerun the dang thing and cursing you while I did it. Yes, that is a run on sentence, but sometimes the rant has to contain run on sentences, so get over it Karen.
Poor Karen, she gets a really tough rep just for having the name Karen—which we associate as the new negative Nancy, or in most cases the person makes sure to go out of their way every day to point out the, and I mean, the, tiniest flaw in whatever it is that day they chose to throw at you.
Simply said though, my cats live each day. Well, they seem to any ways. It’s the life really. But as me, it’s up to me to live each day and not worry about what future me will do or react or even what it holds. Truth-be-told, I couldn’t change it, even if I wanted to. Because you can’t change what has already happened, or what is going to happen or could for that matter, but you can change what you do right now, right this minute. That’s all you have control over. That’s all I have control over. The right now, the moment that is right in front of me.
But that’s hard to do when you face demons on a daily basis. Fear is an ugly thing—it contorts and reshapes and place awful games with you. I wish I could give advice thats like “oh, it’ll get better. hang in there,” because that’s complete BS and everyone who faces depression, anxiety, mental illness, addiction, PTSD, or anything else for that matter, know that those words mean nothing. Wish they did, Karen, but they don’t.
Basically, saying those words is kinda like an insult—because at the moment, it’s not getting better and your future is bleak and hanging in there requires tons of focus, donuts and very loud and angry music. I can’t just “hang in there,” I want out of there.
I want to live in the now. I want to see it, feel it, touch it. I want to sit still and quiet and take it in. I want a clear head and a chest that doesn’t always feel so tight. I want to be able look around me and not worry about everything that needs to be done, but rather, what color is the sky today? Let’s hope it’s not black.
I want the bright hues and the weightlessness of it all, but ha, that’s not life. That’s a cat’s life, but that’s not anyones really, well, I suppose maybe babies know that weightlessness of rainbows and unicorns.
Lucky ducks.
It’s so much harder being an adult and being an adult that just wants to feel normal, when normal is overrated and there isn’t an actual “normal.” I want just the small piece of my own little bubble that I reside in to be safe. I want to feel comfortable and accepted. I want to feel like I can let me guard down and be free and show my true colors and emotions without someone commenting that I should like a weirdo. I want to be me, mental illness and all. I want my scars both inside and out to be loved no matter what demons haunt me. I want to be able to drop my shield and just be and not have to worry about being spot on. I want peace and love. I want understand and compassion. I want someone who is going to listen and be there. I want someone who will fight alongside me and makes me feel not invisible, but seen, heard, loved, cared for and adored.
I want to be me and live in the now and not worry about the future me would do will do when the time arrives. I want to really feel the sun on my face and smile with genuine happiness and not the fake stuff I give all the time. I want to be real. I want to be truthful. I want to be heard.
I don’t want to be ignored anymore. I want to live in the now and I want to be accepted for who I am, no matter the person or illness that shadows alongside me.
I just want to be.
So, dear future self, if I can give you one piece advice from one manic to another, try and be in the now. Because I’m struggling with it here—but you, you could be the beginning of our cat life—you can pave the way.
Oh and me right now, suck it up buttercup. Today was rough, yesterday was hard—only you can decide what tomorrow will be, if you just be.
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