I’m usually a very forward planning, plotting, scheming, future-oriented type o’ gal.
Of late though, I’ve been getting quite mired in the past, of thinking back and mulling over the events of this year especially.
It tends to happen to me at the end of the year (as I’m sure it does for most people), the nights drawing in as they are (in the Northern Hemisphere at least), that niggling need to hibernate and recharge more insistent everyday. But it’s got me by the neck moreso than ever, this year.
It’s been busy, and I feel like this year, more than most, I never really got chance to stop and smell the roses, to fully appreciate where I was and how I got there, and how effing awesome it is that this is my day job and that it’s so very varied and challenging and just plain fun.
I’ve been taking it for granted, for definite, despite a conscious effort to do the opposite. The habitual, in the moment part of my brain refuses to see it as anything but a normal day. When it’s never a normal day! I don’t have normal, average days. Every single day is different, and that’s really fab (I get bored easily) and it’s different usually because I’m in charge of how this little life gets run (sure, I’ve meetings and deadlines and other people’s schedules to fit in to, but how I fit in is my business).
I don’t like taking it for granted. I LOVE to stop and smell the roses, to be mindful now and then of where I am right here and now. Because I haven’t this year – it’s been whirlwind, one project or life changing event to the next – for some reason it feels as if my brain is hankering back to various parts of the year – it feels very nostalgic, almost a tiny bit like I’m grieving for those times that won’t come again. Like I didn’t eek out all of the essence of everything that was going on at the time. Like I cheated myself out of something wonderful. Now that’s some massive FOMO.
Or perhaps it’s cos I’m writing this whilst listening to a particularly melodramatic track from National Treasure…