A friend asked this question:
“Are you living the life you had planned for yourself?”
My reply:
My first impulse is to say “No, I’m not”, simply because my life, for so many years, was lived in the moment. My brush with death (in the form of a cancer diagnosis) left me feeling that life was much too tenuous to plan for. I can distinctly remember getting to college and feeling overwhelmed with the victory of having lived so long–much longer than I had really anticipated. I sat on the plaza near the library looking over Aldich Park nearly overwhelmed with the joy of actually ‘being there.’ At the same time I realized that I was in process of making some important decisions–college major, future career path, etc–and I really didn’t know what to do. I hadn’t really planned on making it that far.
BUT…
As I reflect on the question more, I think that I _am_ living the life I planned for myself. Since I was a little girl I dreamed about being a mother and having lovely, intelligent chidren. I’ve always wanted to get a Ph.D. like my Dad–those three letters held such promise and prestige. I expected that my life would be filled with passion; I wanted to love someone desperately and have that love reciprocated in generous amounts. I wanted to eat good food, play hard, and wear myself out every day. I wanted to write books, to teach, to help others feel better about themselves.
All of these things I have either accomplished or they are within a few years’ reach.
I am a lucky girl. I say this with a feeling of restlessness, though. A huge part of me still expects that I will die soon. A huge part of me wants MORE. But then I take a deep breath and realize that life just can’t get much better than this. No matter what the future holds.
:)
What about you, dear reader. Are you “living the life you had planned for yourself?”