A few months ago, I had coffee for the first time with a woman I had recently met. We got personal pretty quickly, which is fine by me – I’m a bit of an open book on most subjects. I shared some intimate details of my life story and also the details that I’ve shared publicly. When I was done peeling back my onion for her, she asked me if I ever felt like I was put on this earth and kept around (so far) to accomplish something amazing.
All. The. Freakin’. Time.
In a nutshell, there have been numerous occurrences in my life – some medical, some notsomuch – that could have easily snuffed out my existence. Yet, that didn’t happen. Each time, I somehow made it through, and some of those triumphs were tippy-toeing near the “miraculous” zone.
Now, some of you are probably dying to hear all the gory details of these experiences, some of you may not give a shit, but either way – that’s ok. This post isn’t about that, mostly because all of those stories would fill a book…hmmm…
The point of this post is to talk about the never-ending feeling I’ve had since I was very young, that I’ve been spared or given back my life numerous times because I have some great calling to fulfill.
So great, in fact, that I haven’t even figured it out yet.
Which IS the point of this post.
What if what I AM doing is the wrong “something amazing”?
What if I find out too late that what I’m already accomplishing and will accomplish were NOT the reasons why I’m here?
I know – this existentialist shit makes my head spin most of the time as well, but when somebody else hits your innermost thoughts and fears all in the same sentence for all the same reasons you have those thoughts and fears – it gets pretty deep.
This is not about ego – I don’t think that I’m here to change the world or any other grandiose ideas like that (with all due respect to those who ARE here to change it). But what if changing the world was my “destiny” and I’m sitting here telling you that I’m not buying into my own destiny?
I’m sure you can see how this could, at times, be a little crippling.
Scrubbing toilets, typing out the words in my head and posting them online because there is nobody in front of me to speak them to, making grilled cheeses because I don’t feel like going to the grocery store for real dinner food – I’m not convinced these are signs of a higher calling, but who am I to judge myself?
Yes, it’s hard sometimes to avoid saying “I was saved for THIS?” when my child comes home from school with sopping leggings, because she didn’t pull them down far enough when she sat on the potty (yes, sat – like I don’t worry enough about her at school?). Or when she comes home from school wearing only transparent tights as pants, because she didn’t feel like wearing the skirt she chose to wear that morning, and explained to me her belief that tights and leggings are the same thing.
I have to remind myself that no doubt Mother Theresa’s mom or Dr Martin Luther King Jr’s mother had stories like these to tell – mommy tales. Yet, look at the destiny they fulfilled.
Now, Baby Girl may not turn out to be the next Oprah Winfrey or Nelson Mandela, or she may – that’s not really the point either.
The point is this – I have to find my OWN value in what I do.
I don’t have to be an iconic world hero, nor do my children. I don’t have to measure my worth by other people’s standards – how much money I earn, how many people follow me, how many hits my posts get, how much charity work I do, how often I’m on the news.
I simply have to look upon my life as one that matters – no matter what I do.
What more amazing accomplishment can there be?
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