Sunday Scaries or Something Else?

I'd love to say I was happy just yesterday.  But I wasn't, not really.  This morning was just a little bit worse.

It occurred to me that I've accomplished my goals. This is not a new thought.

When I was 35, I remember writing a post about Dying at 35, but it didn't make it over to the new blog. Maybe I wanted to forget I'd written that? No, I think I just mistakenly forgot to bring it over.

As I was saying, I've accomplished my goals. At least the ostensible ones. I got to live in America. I graduated high school. I went to prom. I danced with a boy. I held hands with a boy. I finally graduated college. I even got to go to a prestigious college.  I went on a date.  A boy I liked kissed me on the cheek. I finished my advanced degree.

I got to be a teacher, even though I was terrible at it.

(I feel like I've written this before...or this is the broken record that plays in my head.)

I've done some volunteer work.

I finally got the cool job title at a big company. Somebody chose me!

I own a car; mortgaged a house; saved 100k. These are huge milestones.

I visited Europe, Africa, Asia, even South America.

I did these things. At one point in my life, I thought they were important.

I quit a job because I could (prideful, much).

The point is, I set out to do these things and I did them.

What if life is just another thing on my to-do list. Except now, it's time to cross it off.

There are 3 inflection points in my life. Do you know how you can create reboot points on your computer right before you make changes? That's how I see these inflection points.

Age 7 - I got to live in America.

Age 17 - I graduated from high school.

Age 36 - I have essentially arrived as an adult.

These were all turning points in my life so far where I expected some sort of "payout" (for lack of a better word) for my efforts. Maybe payout is not the right word. But after each of these moments I saw the rest of my life differently. But instead it just feels like I was met with a new set of struggles.

It's as though each of these moments were mountain peaks - I'd climbed one side of the mountain..I kept climbing, keeping my eye on the prize, one more step, whatever metaphor or inspirational phrase you want to use... But I kept hoping to get to that next inflection point...but the reward was so short-lived and I was soon met with the next series of struggles.

So...just about 20 years of struggles since the last inflection point.  And the reward just doesn't seem big enough.

In this moment, that's how I feel.

The thought of the next series of struggles is wholly keeping me from enjoying any good feelings I could be feeling. Because I have 36 years of evidence to show that that's exactly what happens.

While scary to some, having a defined Death Date helps take the vastness of a long life and breaks it into a more digestible chunk.

I under no circumstances want to live another 30 years. Literally, let me die now (peacefully in my sleep of natural causes, of course).

But the thought that was dancing in m head this morning was why wait 9 or 10 more years..why not now?

The original reason was I wanted to spend all the money I saved. But honestly...if I'm going to be met with 9 or 10 more years of struggle to do that...why would I live just for that.

When I die, I want it to be on a good day. Not at the end of a horror story. Not as an end to misery. I want to die believing that my life had the potential to be better, not knowing that potential never materialized.  I want to die at the top of the mountain. Right before you take the next step back down.

I think if I had died at 7, there's nothing so great I've done in the last 30 years that would have made living this long worth it.  But boy moving to America was going to be the best thing ever!

I think if I had died at age 17, after being Prom Princess, getting into my Number 1 College Early Decision, leaving my old life, that would have been okay too. How glorious and full of hope I'd been then!

If I had died at 35, I would have pre-deceased my aunt. I would not have the time to think of how poorly I treated her while she was alive; how much I took her for granted; and how poorly I cared for her while she was sick and dying.  I was definitely not full of hope and life at 35.  Nor was I at a mountain top. It was more like the end of a 5k not-so-fun walk. Or like the pistol-start of a marathon I had registered, raised money, and trained tirelessly for.   It would have just been an end +/- an A for effort.

I feel then as I do now - I've completed all I've set out to do. 

Right now I just feel like I missed a few chances already to cross this last thing off my to-do list. Do I want to miss another one?

I mean I was never going to make it to age 65, so the question really is will I make it to Death Date (age 45)?