Glow by Lady E

  There is a photograph of me setting up a booth filled with books I created. I remember that version of me. She was building something she believed in. She had plans for where it might go. Ideas about what came next. Things she wanted badly enough to spend her time, energy and creativity making them real. She wasn’t pretending. She really wanted that life. And then, eventually, I didn’t. I think one of the strangest things about changing is looking back at something you once wanted desperately and realizing that you no longer want it in quite the same way. For a long time, that unsettled me. Because if I could change my mind about something that had once mattered so much, what did that say about all the choices I had made before? Had I been wrong? Had I wasted my time? Had that earlier version of me simply not known herself well enough? After that particular chapter of my work ended, I went through a period filled with realizations and questions I hadn’t expected to have. Not beca...

  There is an invisible schedule I sometimes carry around in my head. By this age, I should have done this. I should already own that. I should have reached this milestone, built that life, earned that much, figured this part out. No one handed me this schedule. There are no deadlines printed on it. And yet somehow, it can feel very real. It gets louder when I look at other people. Someone is buying a house. Someone is traveling. Someone’s business is growing. Someone has reached the milestone I’m still working toward. And suddenly, their progress becomes evidence that I am late. But late for what? We passed by this sculpture of fishermen recently, surrounded by the tall buildings of BGC. The contrast struck me. Behind them is a world measured in meetings, deadlines, promotions, targets and calendars. But fishermen have always understood another kind of time. The tide comes in. The tide goes out. There are seasons for going farther and seasons for staying close to shore. You cannot...

  I have a habit of trying to fix things. If I’m uncomfortable, I want to know why. If I’m disappointed, I start thinking about what I should do differently. If I’m uncertain, my brain starts building plans. And if I’m sad, angry or lonely, some part of me immediately wants to turn that feeling into a problem I can solve. Maybe it comes from being used to handling things. I’m very good at asking, Okay, what do I do now? Usually, that’s useful. But lately, I’ve been wondering if I ask that question too quickly. Because sometimes I’m sad because something made me sad. Sometimes I’m disappointed because I hoped for something and it didn’t happen. Sometimes I’m angry because something hurt me. Sometimes I’m lonely. Sometimes I simply don’t know what happens next. And maybe I don’t need to immediately turn any of those things into a project. I don’t need a five-step plan for every uncomfortable emotion. I don’t need to find the lesson while I’m still living through the experience. I don...