It’s a genuine question.
Existing, I can do. Managing and muddling through. But living – actually living, well. I have no idea.
Seems to me I live life backwards or forwards – but rarely in the present.
It’s a deliberate choice.
I’ve ordered my life to make sure that the present is something I never have to face. From the radio spluttering in the silence, to the checklists that ring-fence those (never ever) empty hours.
But the hours add up.
To 34 years of holding my breath and treading water.
34 years of rehearsal – when the performance has already begun.
I’m scared of living my life on the benches. Waiting … for something to start – or to finish.
The past. Editing, replaying, regretting or yearning for what can’t be undone.
The future. If I can only get through this. When this happens (babiesmarriagepromotioncheckupsretirement), I’ll finally be able to stop.
Life on fast-forward – or life on rewind. Fire-fighting, delaying, being busy.
But never – never, in the moment. The still centre. The silence, when it’s just you.
Not your family or your partner or your friends.
Not your job or your routines or your bank balance.
And the question. Am I alone? Is this it?
And all of life depends on this.