I've always had beautiful Moleskin planners. I recreated Christmas every time I bought a new one for the new year. I couldn't wait to fill it up with all the events that were to come, and I would feel the butterflies flutter when I was able to highlight my accomplishments for the week. And it ruined my life.
I spent more time staring at all the things I had written down for school, for life, for my happiness. I spent more time thinking about how I was going to shovel it all away than actually digging.
My weeks became weighted before they even started. I woke up knowing I had a list to complete, and that became my soul focus for the day. And I began letting horrible, untrue intrusive thoughts take over every little aspect of my life. I began thinking about a test I was going to fail two weeks ahead, a paper I was never going to finish, friends I wouldn't have time to see.
A few weeks ago I forgot my planner at my house. I didn't notice at first, but without my planner I wasn't constantly checking off the things I needed to get done. I wasn't thinking about the people I wasn't going to see. I stopped thinking about everything except the moment I was in. I just focused on each hour of work. Each hour of class. I finally felt like I was just being. I actually had time to put my headphones in, turn on crappy music, and trot to class.
And I caught myself smiling.
I forgot my planner every day for two weeks. And then I shoved it under my bed last night. Because it feels so good to not have to think about tomorrow. And it feels great to forget what happened yesterday. Because today I noticed that the leaves on the tree by the library aren't purple; the leaves are plum.
Of course I still get stressed. If I wasn't stressed I probably wouldn't be writing this post right now. I have no idea where I'm going in December. I have no idea where I'm living. I have no idea where I'll be working, how I will get there, what I'll eat. And the pretzels I'm eating now aren't helping. I feel like I'm doing everything I can to get my life together, but I can't make someone hire me. I cry. A LOT. But at least I don't have to worry about not having a job tomorrow, because I just have to think about this moment. And in an hour, when I'm sitting in my History and Literature of Running class, I won't be thinking about not having a salary.
I'll just be thinking about how women used to believe their uterus would fall out if they participated in physical activities.