Sometimes I feel like I’m waiting for my life to really start. Other times it feels close to perfect, what with its good balance of work and personal time, obligations and hobbies, sleeping in and burning the midnight oil.
Some days I want to overhaul my life. Other days, I find that I don’t want it to change one bit. Some mornings I wish there was someone next to me as I open my eyes to a new day. Other mornings, I am ecstatic to be able to sprawl across the bed — a bed all to myself.
Some days I think I know what I want, while other days I have no clue. I’m fearful of perhaps finding that person who makes my heart leap with joy, because if I haven’t found him yet, I wonder if I’ll know what to do with it when and if I do. Will I nurture it? Or will I sabotage it because it’s so foreign to me?
I guess by virtue of all this wondering, I stand a good chance of being hyper-aware and ready to know what to do when the day comes — for any sort of change. A lot of people believe overthinking is a bad thing. To that, I say that it’s in our chick job description and, thus, we can’t help it. But I also say that more thinking in the world — by men and women alike — wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.
Tonight I am thankful to be able to mull, chew, ponder, wonder and mentally come at something a million different ways. If not for our ability to do that, we stand a good chance at accepting the boring, the expected, the typical and the usual. And what fun is that? Very little, I’d think.