I found a gray hair.

October is nearly halfway over, my age is about to shift, summer is as good as gone, I found a gray hair on my head the other day, so shit is picking up speed. In light of this I see myself stuck on this node on the timeline called "today" where my choices are:

1: reflect on the past where the resounding "I thought I would've x, y, z-ed by now" is the banner above my head of thoughts.

or

2: look to the future where all the uncertainties like to live--will I ever "do what I love as to not work a day in my life?" Travel to all those places? Get married? Have kids? Reach my standard of that ever-fluctuating definition of success? Will the world explode from the inside out or the outside in before I have a chance to figure any of it out?

or

3: sit in right now where comparison to everybody else's average-looking days seem to put the highlight reel of mine to shame.

OR (and this is the one I'm trying desperately to embrace and the thing that is teeth-pulling work to keep a grip on)

4: pay attention to right now. My Tuesday, October 12th 2021 at 12:52pm self--I get goosebumps every time I release the tension in my shoulders, acknowledge that I'm breathing air, look around, listen, smell, and shut up my thoughts for a second.

And, I know, I know--it's nothing new for someone to tell you "just take a deep breath" in order to recenter and ground you in the present moment. But what I have to keep in mind is that it's a tool, not a magic trick. Tools help, they don't cure. All the self-care, mental health, take a bath, meditate every morning in your lush, Bali-inspired garden are all gorgeous elements of a romantic lifestyle I'd love to live, but I'm finding that my soul often asks for something else though I want to force it to desire this limited list of self-care activities.

I've tried these things and they're nice, but I wasn't drawn back to the experiences that they were. My logic from the past three years would tell me that's because I'm undisciplined and weak and unreliable to take good care of myself. If I wasn't, I'd be consistent in engaging them and thus experience the beneficial results they promise. Agreeing with that view is a well-worn path in my brain and 25% of me might still agree with it secretly, but I'm going to try something new--I'm going to take note of when I'm not drawn back to a self-care practice or hobby even if it's something in theory that's "good for me." If it isn't absolutely necessary (like sleeping and drinking water), then I'll write it off. My soul isn't asking for that again and I no longer want to force myself into a mold of a lifestyle my true identity doesn't fit in comfortably.

Here's the rub: this idea in my head of my "ideal self" is hurting more than helping at this point in my life.

In my wise old age of 27 come Saturday, I am now going to begin to accept that I may not be or ever become the fictional character of my picturesque self that I'd like to be, and arms up in surrender, I am going to start being okay with that. Forcing myself to be anything my soul is telling me I'm not is hindering my exploration, my joy, and my wellbeing.