Midnight Musings

I’m writing this in the middle of the night. It’s 1:05 a.m., and I can’t sleep. It’s been like this off and on, where sometimes my prescribed medication to help me sleep just isn’t enough.

I’ve heard of this happening a lot with my friends and family lately. We as a whole are anxious, stir crazy, and in a state of unrest. (Literally, I guess.) None of us – well, very few of us – have survived a pandemic before. We don’t know how to suddenly alter everything about our daily lives without creating some mental challenges. And perhaps some insomnia. It’s uncharted territory. And damn it if this quiet introvert doesn’t desperately miss small personal interactions and hugs with friends.

Beyond that, I question whether I’m having a mid-life crisis or if the pandemic allows for too much introspection. I find myself noticing I’m 41, and seeing the wrinkles to prove it. I wonder what things I thought I should accomplish by age 40 but haven’t. I don’t feel I’ve left my mark yet, even a smudge, and it scares me. And I’m still battling old habits and scars of long ago. I want to leave something good of me behind before my time is up.

And my remaining time, thanks to the Coronavirus, seems like it could be shorter than ever thought. Plus, I thought if I were to die early, it would likely be at my own hand thanks to lifelong struggles with mental health. Not as a statistic of a global pandemic. It’s unnerving.

I don’t mean to be morbid. Just realistic. People of all ages are dying from this. And enough people aren’t heeding the safety warnings to ensure it continues to spread, despite its publicized severity.

How do you measure a successful life? I’m a child, a spouse, a parent, a relative, a friend, an employee, and a student. These are some of my various roles in life. But I don’t know if, in any of these specific roles, I’ve left a lasting mark.

I was a decent daughter and didn’t cause a lot of grief for my parents. I sought to make them proud and earn their love. (Yes, I realize what I said there. That’s what I said and meant to say.) I’ve always felt I’ve had to work hard to be lovable.

I feel like I’m a distant, at times aloof, spouse, parent, relative, and friend. I get scared if I’m genuine about my wants and needs or my negative, big feelings, people will give up on me, leave me, and I’ll be all alone. Abandoned and unloveable.

I’m a hardworking, dedicated employee, but in general that’s not where I want to leave my biggest mark – at least not today. And I’m working on my doctorate, but thousands of people complete doctorates. I feel like I have completed nothing special to say I’ve accomplished in life thus far. Oh, and, tick tock, tick tock… on goes the clock. (And it’s now 1:36 a.m.)

My personal challenge is simple. Well, sort of. Define what makes me happy. Describe things I concretely want to accomplish before I die and why. And start doing these things, especially those that overlap on both lists. I feel I’ve been drifting through the last 41 years without creating and accomplishing life goals, and it has just now sunk in that I’m missing an opportunity.

Life is short, even if you live what is defined as a full, long life. It’s all we’ve got – one life to live. How do you want to spend the rest of your dash? Maybe it’s the pandemic talking, maybe it’s the mid-life crisis. Either way, it’s now 1:53 a.m., and I’ve still got a lot to figure out. And the hourglass of time waits for no one.