Interlude

I realize that I spent to much of the past few years just taking care of shit that I almost never have had the time or the luxury to think about what's beyond the next crisis, or the next task. There was no emotional energy left to worry much about what I wanted my life to look like, or what kind of person I wanted to be. I feel almost naive in my excitement about thinking and ideas, that most people have already thought about and dealt with years ago. But I have to be forgiving of this side of myself, because if I am ashamed, then I am less open to learning.

I do think about all that I have been through, and what I have lost and I do sometimes find it so hard to imagine that it happened to me, and that I survived all of it emotionally, and still manage to enjoy life and to be open and trusting and loving. I don't break down in tears, I don't fall into deep depressions. I have always gotten out of bed every day and done my job, and I still love life and feel excitement about where it will take me next. I feel very lucky that I get to have such an optimistic outlook on the world.

Sometimes I wonder if it's better to have a plan, or to be open and flexible. I did live life according to a plan, but that didn't seem to work for me. It's hard, though, because planning is my natural inclination.