Being laid up the last few days with not much else to do (until S introduced me to couchtuner and I discovered I could watch Arrested Development on it, that is heh.) put me in a great place to sit and think about a certain meltdown that occurred last week that I am increasingly beginning to feel aggravated my illness. It turned a regular viral fever into a monster fever. Addled my brain and set my mind off on a tailspin that did me more harm than than the illness did.
It boils down to the restlessness I keep talking about. I’ve felt it since late last year, and it has ebbed and flowed at various points. Sometimes I have felt like I may be on to something, and that I’ve silenced the constant nagging feeling with the rhythm and cacophony of my daily life, and other times when the silence creeps back, it is back to square one. Mostly it’s this feeling like everything that I’m doing is merely a run up to the next thing, and that next thing is around the corner. But I’m not quite there yet. I feel like I’m still coasting along in the vast grey of transition. Like I haven’t quite peaked. Like the best is yet to come. Like I’m waiting for that opportune moment, for that one experience that will kick it out the park for me.
This restlessness has been festering within me for so long now, I’ve become almost accustomed to it. With every step forward, I feel the goalposts move further up, the demands growing. Every moment that lights up with a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, comes with the reminder of how much remains to be done. So many things to write about, so many dream publications left to strike off my bucket list, so many places to visit, so many books to read, so many experiences left to be had. And here I am, waiting for my turn in the sun is yet to come around. Yes, there is a sense of waiting. As if I am on pause, and everything I am doing is but a run up to the real deal of some sort.
I know, I know, it’s probably no different from the way just about every one of us feels. The more we do, the more there is to aspire for. And if I were to be really honest, this feeling is kind of unfounded. Because there is plenty to be glad for at the moment. I live in one of the most wonderful states in India. I’m married to possibly the most supportive and understanding man I’ve met, who makes our life here possible in more ways than one. I have the privilege and luxury to work out of home, on my terms, doing the kind of work I want to do. I’ve been lucky to have a comfortable well-kept life without the demands of being the bread-winner so I can scale my work up the way I want. I have the capacity to travel as and when I want to. I’m blessed with an able body, access to healthy food and a metabolism that lets me indulge and exercise to the extremes that I do. I’ve had the incredible opportunity to choose this life, free of most of the encumbrances that people at my life-stage and age usually have to deal with. Our parents are able and healthy and don’t yet need us, we have no children or other major responsibilities. I have the support and love of my family, some of the most wonderful friends I’ve had in all my life. It’s a great time to be alive. And yet, here I am longing for the page to turn. It’s like my reality and the wants of my heart are often at loggerheads.
If I were to be really honest, and by honest, I mean if I were to think straight, unclouded by emotion and that reckless, endless desire for the what next, and look at things very objectively, I’d realise, as I so often do, that it is in fact a bloody good time to be alive. And sure, this may very well be the “run up for what is to come.” But it doesn’t take away from the fact that this right here, is life, in the now.
It’s in the rhythms of my daily routine. In the tiny little insignificant acts that dot each new day. In the waking of every dawn and fading of every sunset, punctuated by successes big and small; some moments of despair and disappointment; a rollercoaster learning curve; every pay check; in the weekends spent home; in the wholesome meals in my plate; in every milestone conversation with VC that is worth remembering for a lifetime; in every giggle fit; every epiphany and seminal moment of change. This is it. Life is happening, it’s unfolding right now as I sit around waiting for it to…well, happen.
This is not a new lesson or learning. These are things I have arrived at time and again. Lessons in patience, in waiting, in growing a little, and in learning to be brave and audacious. In reminding myself of all of this, time and time again. Because evidently, I forget.
It took a a week of forced silence and rest to remind myself again. When my blood work turned out completely clear, and in fact showed stellar numbers proving that physically there was no reason I had to be sick so soon again, I knew that perhaps this was just a necessary pause. To refocus and pay attention, rethink and remind myself yet again. To quit waiting. To be present because this is life. It is happening right now. And it is enough.