It’s frustrating that the age of 42, I finally found myself realising that infinity isn’t a reality. When my existential crisis started, I was considering the things that may or may not get ticked on my bucket list.
We all have those things that we want to do, things we desire, things we dream about, but in the end you get to a certain point in life, and you know deep down that many of them are not achievable. Those things on your bucket list that, when you were 21, felt like a possibility for later life, are suddenly revealed as highly unlikely.
Very recently, I found myself pondering some of the few things I had left on my list, those things included going to New York one day, visiting old friends from school and reminiscing about the good (bad) old days, and maybe even getting married.
Unfortunately, with my health the way it is, it’s become clear I can’t achieve those big-bucket objectives. Yes it’s sad, and that sadness doesn’t just stretch to me, it stretches to the people who miss out on it with me. That includes my partner, my daughter, and of course, our dog.
It’s almost another grief over something that we never had.
But outside of the big-bucket list, outside of the things that we wish for when we dare to, there are things that aren’t really wishes at all. I see these things as everyday desires. Things that we all see in our peripheral mind-vision and subconsciously believe that they will happen. It’s only when the shit hits the fan that it becomes apparent you might miss out on these essential things that you’d never even considered before.
I’m at a stage now where I’ve stopped sweating the big stuff and refocused on sweating the small stuff. Life isn’t infinite so with the finite amount of time I have left I know I’ve got to squeeze a lot in. I’m not just limited by time though, so with the finite amount of health I have left, I know the amount of time available is getting shorter quickly. And when I say I’m sweating the small stuff I’m talking about the everyday desires most people take for granted. For example, in the back of my head I believed that I’d learn to drive one day, I thought that I’d get to run a marathon as I’d been a reasonably successful 10 km runner only a decade ago – that never felt like a pipe dream, It felt like a really good possibility. I also hoped I’d move to the countryside. Then the dreams got smaller, I thought I’d attend a parents evening, I thought I’d be on a train again, going somewhere adventurous for a day out that would be filled with selfies, smiles and snacks. I thought that when Adele toured again, I’d be at the concert. I thought I’d be comfortable enough to enjoy a bath.
When I think about Christmas my fears for a lack of infinity have grown much bigger this year. For example, I now have to accept that I will never wear something fitted at Christmas again – I will always be beholden to an elasticated waist. Am I okay with that? I guess I have to be – I’m a plus size girl who moves like a plank of wood, but I’m still not body confident, although I wish I was. I also wonder if I’ll ever get to enjoy a Christmas market again. You know, a day out in a local village where the air is cold but filled with the smell of hotdogs and charred onions and strangers in woolly hats are shouting to sell their wears to passers by. I’d hoped that I’d be the one going in the loft to get the tree down, that I’d do that on my own and put the decorations up while I listen to Christmas music and spend the afternoon enjoying the memory of purchasing every bauble, where each silly tree ornament came from, and wondering how long they’ll last. I’d hoped I’d enjoy another Christmas do. We’ve all been to them, those bloody awful Christmas parties where the booze is never free, the disco is crap, and the food tastes like lukewarm cardboard but everyone still has an amazing time. I genuinely thought I’d be there again one day (and hopefully forget about it all the next!).
More than anything, despite all the instability of the last four years, I believed one day I would get out. I believed one day I would be back to being pain-free for more hours of the day than I’m pain-full.
Without that last paragraph I can’t achieve anything that I’ve mentioned in the previous paragraphs, but those pain-free hours have been shrinking month to month, and the possibility of recovery is something I’m doubting more and more.
In the last two weeks, I was thrown another curve ball when I found out unexpectedly that I might need heart surgery. Now don’t get me wrong – we’ve known for about two years that Covid has had an effect on my cardiovascular system and that dysautonomia is creating some pretty nasty symptoms. The problem with Post Covid syndrome is there’s little known about it and it takes a long time to get answers, especially if you haven’t left home for several years. Thankfully we got some test results recently that proved my heart has been playing up and to fix the problem I’ll need a pacemaker or the aforementioned surgery.
So the reality is I’m now off caffeine, I’ve been prescribed no stress, and I’ve been told to take it even more easy than I do right now, which seems impossible. I can’t exercise until things are clearer, I have to eat healthier, and remain t-total.
I refuse to give up vaping, because I don’t have much else left.
The bucket list has to be kicked, and the idea of infinite time is now, without question, my final lost pipe dream. I’m not sure what I’ll achieve, and my ability to come up with new dreams is something I actively squash – no point dreaming if it’ll always be fruitless.
Now, as always with my posts, let’s move to the positivity.
Have I lost hope? You’d be forgiven for thinking I have, because I know I sound defeated, but I’m not. The answer? Once again, I’m reframing my possibilities.
I know, I know. Phrases that start with words like ‘reframing’ usually come from the mouth of a shrink, but bear with me…
My reframing is much smaller. Yes, when I start imagining myself working as the editor of an groundbreaking, positive, kid-friendly, mental wellbeing publication, I know I have to shut it down. But, rather than ending the dream there and feeling like a fail, I wonder what I can achieve towards that goal instead, and I look at the possibilities that could make it happen.
No, I won’t be a hot shot editor, but yes, I could be a respected freelance journalist who is writing about mental illness from a more balanced and compelling perspective. I have the experience and soon the qualifications too, I just need the bravery.
At home things are just as complex, but still highly mailable. The idea about spending an afternoon putting up the Christmas tree while listening to cheesy music isn’t possible now, but I decided that maybe this is one erection that shouldn’t be rushed 😉. Instead, after talking with my daughter, we’ve decided to put the tree up together over a week for an hour after school each day in early December. It’ll be easier for me to be physically active for a shorter period, she’ll stay engaged because it’s only an hour, and she can’t bloody wait to be involved. Why wouldn’t she be excited? Maybe I’ll even halve the workload!
Finally, there’s the biggest bucket-wish of all, and it’s probably the one I think about the most – life longevity.
I don’t have infinite time, I don’t even know if I’ll make it to tomorrow, but that’s the same reality as every other human on the planet. Today, next week, next year, next ten, who knows how long we’ve got? All we can do is appreciate and work with what we have right now.
Please don’t get rid of your bucket list, don’t see this as a sign that you should stop dreaming, you absolutely shouldn’t. But if you take anything away from this post then let it be a reminder to keep your dreams in an infinite spectrum of possibility. Yes, you want to climb Mt Kilimanjaro, so get it on the list. But you also can’t wait to go to the Christmas party next week, so that should be on the list too. Don’t let your bucket spill over with endless unlikely possibilities, let it brim with a mix of everything, so when you start looking back at what you ticked off, you’ll feel happy at all the things you achieved because there’s barely any space left and plenty reminisce about.
Thanks for reading 💜
Creative Steph 