Today

I have this habit of thinking about the future a lot. I’ve had it ever since I was young. When I was in elementary school, I couldn’t wait to be a teenager (so that JTT could realistically want to kiss me - obvi, he was a gentleman). When I got to Jr. High, High School looked like a beautiful, liquid dream of independence and weird genital touching. And then of course when I was in High School, I couldn’t wait to graduate so that I could finally “be free” of the shackles of academia.

Thinking about my future is a habit that is motivating, terrifying and sabotaging all at once.

Today I find myself constantly thinking about what the next “thing” is. The next project, or job or person or place or noun. The next step I need to take in life to a finally find: my life’s worth!

I know, right? Where’s the sign up sheet for this super chill fun party I’ve planned? “I’ll have what SHE’S having” is what all of you just thought. (I promise there will be a bit of self awareness/reflection/bettering at the end of this. And probably a mention of my therapist.)

My therapist (wow, okay that happened much faster than anticipated) and I speak about this habit a lot. It’s a topic that comes up often in my rolodex of anxiety she spins every session. I confide in her about how I’m constantly living in a state of fear that I’m not going to be good enough or pretty/young/smart/thin enough to work in Los Angeles. I ramble on and on about how I should be DOING already and not just sitting around like a lump as I watch my many friends fly on down and start their amazing lives. She listens patiently as I shift uncomfortably on the couch, listing off all of the things I’m planning on working on and ideas that will be put into action just as soon as I’m in a city that’s not the one I am currently in. I just have to get there. And when I get there, THAT’s when the work comes in. THAT’s when my apartment will be perfect. THAT’s when my body will feel it’s best. THAT’s when things will be PERFECT.

And then my therapist does this amazing thing. She asks, “What if you just… sort of… went with the flow of things?”

I stared back at her as if she had just given birth to Dame Edna in front of me. Like, without even giving me any warning. And Dame Edna was still the same age I assume she has always been. (Infinity years old.)

“You’re enjoying your work here, yes?” she continues. “And your relationship is going really well by the sounds of it. So… what if you just took it day-by-day?”

Oh, I don’t know, MARY ELLEN. I’d probably BURST INTO FLAMES? Evaporate into NOTHING?? Explode into HUMAN CONFETTI?!

… Is what my mind wanted to say. But my brain was like, “ooooh-ho-ho bitch! Y’all forgot about CHILLING THE F OUT, didn’t you!”

It turns out, in my hasty attempt to plan my amazing future I sort of forgot to enjoy the pretty-great-right-now-part. And I don’t think that I’m the only person that’s guilty of this. Especially being around all of the creative people I know who are just as cuckoo-cuckoo-bananas as me! We’re all so busy trying to make ourselves better for our futures that we forgot about enjoying the ride, man.

Anxiety isn’t all bad news bears. It’s lit a fire under my ass when I’ve really needed it to. I 100% wouldn’t have been employed as much as I have been if it hadn’t been for my crippling fear of not working hard enough. But what’s the point in working hard if we’re not reaping all the bennies? (Very cool abbrev for benefits. Sorry.)

About a month ago I tried guided meditation for the first time. If you’ve never done it, TRY IT! Go to YouTube and just type in “guided meditation.” There are some good ones and ones for specific types of anxiety or stress. The first time I did it (after I finished laughing at all of the stereotypical dialogue - “You’re in a forest. There’s a pond. It’s warm. You’re a person. You have eyes. Etc.”) the instructions, the very basic instructions were to take a deep breath in and exhale slowly.

Literally my whole body relaxed for the first time since that time I found emergency cheese at the back of my fridge. (Fall. 2009.) How did I forget about breathing? Have I been walking around holding in all of my breath like some sort of constipated body bag? It made me realize how important being in the present is. If I had forgotten to breathe, who knows how many other things have not been taken care of.

So to sum up this - whatever this is - essay? No, I was never good at essays. Let’s call it, self-realization journal… Oh god. No. Let’s not. I am NOT a 45 yr old divorcee yet. Let’s just call it a blog and regret it in a year.

TO SUM UP THIS BLOG, I have a new list of things to remember. Sort of like a grocery list but for actions. You’re welcome to join me, if you’d like.

Remember to:

Be Patient
Celebrate successes (no matter how big)
Water the plants (sorry this is a real one that I need to remember)
Embrace the highs
Acknowledge the lows, but don’t dwell on them
Breathe (I sort of get why Lindsay Lohan had it tattooed on her wrist now… sort of.)

Have a day, everyone.

Amanda.