Lately, for reasons that I’m still internally investigating, I have been asking myself the question, almost daily, “Am I doing what I should be doing?”

It’s a familiar anxiety and my mind chatter is like this:

 

“There’s limited time in this life. We’ve got to MAKE THE MOST of the time we have! We’ve got to MAKE EVERY MOMENT COUNT! We’ve got to BE what we’re supposed to BE and not waste any time BEING THAT! You know, Laura, the longer you indecisively flop back and forth, the more precious time you’re wasting and the less your life will mean, IN THE END.”

 

Dun dun DUN!

 

In the end.

My preoccupation with The End and how or what I’ll feel about my life at that time plays into my thoughts frequently these days.

I am so afraid that I’m going to be a (hopefully) super old and wrinkly lady (hopefully) dying peacefully in her bed that’s (hopefully) situated in the middle of a large, sun-filled room with white curtains blowing easily in the warm spring breeze and the walls are light blue and all of my favorite things are around me and all of my favorite people are there and they’re smiling at me and holding my hand and playing with my hair because I love that… Except underneath all of the peace of this idyllic death situation that I’ve imagined for myself, I’m scared that I’m going to be WRACKED WITH GUILT BECAUSE I DIDN’T DO IT RIGHT!!!!!!!!

 

I DIDN’T DO ENOUGH NICE STUFF!

I DIDN’T MAKE ENOUGH ART!

I DIDN’T MAKE THE MOST OF MY POTENTIAL!

I WASTED SO MUCH TIME WATCHING EVERY EPISODE OF DAWSON’S CREEK, FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS (AND THEN NASHVILLE BECAUSE CONNIE BRITTON), AND A NOT-INSIGNIFICANT NUMBER OF KEEPING UP WITH THE KARDASHIANS EPISODES!

And on top of that, I probably would have lived longer if I had eaten fewer family-sized bags of salt and vinegar chips in one sitting.

Plus the SUGAR!!!!!

 

Stuff like that.

I guess to be fair to this future, anxiety-plagued self, I have to put out the reassurance now that I currently don’t regret a SECOND of Nashville and Rayna Jaymes is like, seriously, *heart eyes*. Moral compass of the world. Rayna the Fair Queen of All. Defender of the Underdog. Ultimate Bad Guy Out-Smarter. High Priestess of Artistic Integrity. Ally to Women Everywhere.

We’ve gotten way off course here, but I’m not upset about it.

Anyway, this feeling of being in limbo, of not being sure that I’m where I’m supposed to be in the big picture sense, is not something I’m hoping to come to terms with in this one little post.

But it is something that is asking for a lot of my attention lately in a way that I can tell I’m being asked to grow. To expand beyond my current and self-inflicted “Indicators of Life Worth” criteria and investigate the now a little more.

Step 1 of this investigation is going to be to stop thinking about it so freakin’ much. I walk around my house wracking my brain. “What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do? Huh? Like, HUH?!” That has not been working.

Step 2 is going to be to get in touch with what is excellent about right now. Three things in the Gratitude Journal every day.

Step 3 is to be quiet more often and let things come to me instead of analyzing and asking and pushing for every answer.

And Step 4 is going to be to start a new piece of art about it.

If ever there was a place to dig around in muck and uncertainty and unclear thoughts, a painting is that place.

Tally ho!

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tal·ly·ho
ˌtalēˈhō/
exclamation: tally-ho
1. a huntsman’s cry to the hounds on sighting a fox.
noun: tally-ho
1. an utterance of this.
2. (historical) a fast horse-drawn coach.
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