THE BREAKUP
Dear Should,
It occurred to me on the eve of my 50th birthday that the narrative I’d been following my whole life wasn’t my own and that so many of my accomplishments weren’t my goals to begin with. It hasn’t been a bad thing but is has frequently never been MY thing. So many opportunities for deep, fulfilling joy were shunned and hours diverted away from passions to focus on attaining the things I should have; to achieve accolades and fit into molds not made for me.
And then there were all my failures. All the narratives-again, not mine-that I had failed at and all the hours spent lamenting my ineptitude’s and inadequacies. All the money spent trying to redeem myself. All for things I never wanted, didn’t believe in and that didn’t fill me with joy.
But most concerning was the fact that I was ALWAYS apologizing. Apologizing for being too good, not good enough, faster, slower, stronger, weaker than someone else’s notion of what I should be, should have, should want, should do, should eat, should weigh, should wear, should own, should sell, should support, should shun, should…
So, Should, not anymore. If the actuaries and physicians are correct, I now have more years behind me than I have in front of me. Therefore, henceforth…
There is no should.
Because you, Should, are only relevant in someone else’s narrative. In mine, either I will or I won’t.
Unapologetically,
JC