Little Boxes

13Jun09

I used to think that life could be categorized into neat, little boxes — just like stuff — one box for each part of life, such as work, school and socializing — another box for each stage of life, such as teenager, young adult and so on — and boxes for each huge event, such as graduations, wedding, a new baby … blah, blah blah.  But it turns out that that isn’t real life.  Go figure.  That was just my way of dealing with the vastness of this journey we call life — it is how I dealt with the incredible lack of structure and direction that life really is.

There was a time not so long ago, just a few years actually, that if something happened that was “outside of my box” of life expectations and experiences, I would freak out.  It didn’t have to be something too crazy … let’s just say I got a speeding ticket or missed a workout … it was out of the ordinary for me and threw my life into a frenzy.  How would I pay for the ticket when I had already allotted my money for the month?  How would I function without my scheduled workout?  

I can’t believe how much I stifled myself.  And, I do still catch myself doing it from time to time.  The rational side of me realizes that the world will not, in fact, coming crashing down if I don’t jump rope for thirty minutes.  Quen will still love me if I get frustrated about changing his diaper while he’s a wiggle worm.  I will not gain twenty pounds overnight if I miss a workout … or three.  Earthquakes will not happen if we order carryout instead of cooking dinner, even though we have all the ingredients necessary to make the perfect meal.  But there is still that nagging irrational side of me that swears up and down that the world will stop if I do something different.  

I work on stepping outside of my “little boxes” every day, although it is really an uphill battle for someone that color codes her closet and has always organized life into specific categories.  Sometimes being human really cramps my style, but I guess that is what makes the journey interesting.  Realizing it helps me focus on teaching my son that life is messy … not perfect — but the real challenge is believing and living my own advice.  I think I’ll break my mold for today and go take a nap.

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