In a little over three years I will be fifty years old. At some point I will have to mentally come to terms with this fact. I'd rather prepare for it now than have an existential meltdown. “What‽ I'm not twenty five anymore?"
One of the things I will need to come to grips with is death. Ironically, my efforts since the divorce have been to avoid death as a solution to my problems, but I am of the age now where life may decide death is what is best for me.
I can expect myself to complain all the way to the bitter last moment.
What woke me with a start today was how much garbage I have accumulated over the years and how badly my children will be burdened by it. I suddenly thought of all those home movies fading away into magnetic oblivion in my garage, and it panicked me. Memories and effort wasted by procrastination. I'm not even on top of current photos & family movies, never mind what awaits me in boxes.
Speed is my problem. I'm simply not working fast enough. I am taking a leisurely approach to something that is measured by the remaining grains of sand in the hourglass.
It occurs to me that all of my life suffers from this problem. What is it that I really want to work on? Am I spending my time properly? I need to hurry things up. More importantly, I need to choose the core things I want to have in this world and make them a priority. Everything else can be tossed in the bin.
Perhaps I am thinking morbidly because I am sick again. Perhaps I am overly worried about my future. Then again, when I look upon the staging area of projects in my bedroom, I realize I am drowning in clutter temporally and physically.
Perhaps I should take time today to write down what key things I want to have with me, and what key things I want to spend my time on, then design a plan to simplify my life. Given how hard ADHD makes everything for me, isn't my current course of action making life even harder? Why do I set out to finish projects that bore me? Don't I spend too much time working on what I think I should be doing instead of focusing on only what is necessary?
I operate as if I will have all the time in the world—as if a lengthy life is ahead of me. What if I that is not the case? With my very low immunity system I can look forward to getting sicker and sicker the older I get. I will have less time on this earth, not more, and less productive hours available to me the longer I live. This isn't morbidity, but reality. Shouldn't I live as if I will die soon? The upside to such macabre thoughts is that I might live longer than I fear, but without any clutter if I make a lasting change now. After all, if I have forty or more years ahead of me, do I really want to spend it toiling away at pruning my past?