The Big Picture

Most of everyday life is ordinary. We wake up, brush our teeth, wonder what to eat for dinner, pay bills, go to work, send emails, take showers, and make dentist appointments.

Seen from farther away, though, a life can look remarkable.

Over time, we fall in love, accomplish things we once thought were impossible, show kindness to strangers, and quietly leave our mark on other people. But it is easy to lose sight of all that when life arrives one unremarkable day at a time.

When you are standing inside your own life, slow progress can look almost exactly like stillness.

For the past few weeks, I have been stuck in that feeling while waiting to hear about a job I interviewed for. As a single parent, I desperately need the job. But more than that, I want it. I know I would do well, and my heart is set on it.

Now I am in that excruciating space where there is nothing left to do but wait while someone else makes a decision.

So I refresh my email every five minutes. I apply for other jobs halfheartedly. Meanwhile, my anxiety launches like Apollo 11, apparently on an urgent mission to the moon.

Taking action has always been how I cope. As long as I am doing something, I am moving forward. Forward is good. Forward means progress. Waiting offers none of that relief.

Eventually, even doomscrolling stopped working. So I did what I usually do when I begin to doubt myself: I opened my journal.

In a small, leather-bound notebook, I record three things each month that have moved me toward the life I want to live and the person I want to become.

And then, without meaning to, I zoomed out.

It was September. Nine months of entries were spread across the pages in front of me: choices and changes, hard things and tiny victories. Evidence that I had continued showing up for my own life.

Looking at those months as though they belonged to someone else, I thought, Wow. She really kept going.

My life had not been standing still. I had simply been standing too close to see it move.

I am still checking my email too often. I still need the job, and I still really want it. The journal did not make the waiting easier or give me a satisfying answer.

It did give me a different view. Three months. Six months. Nine months. From that distance, stillness looked a lot like movement.

Written by SAKURACO