27 March 2014
We were watching Downton Abbey last night. The Dowager Countess of Grantham (my favourite character; Maggie Smith is a marvel!) was talking to one of her granddaughters when she said something that kept me up all night: that life is merely a series of problems to be solved. You solve this one, move on to the next, and so on.
I wondered about the grain of truth there–what it takes to keep going, to not just allow yourself to be carried from day to day, but to rise up to the challenges, too. And isn’t it similar to taking one day at a time, just focusing on now, on today. How you hope, as you get into bed at night, that you’ve done your best–all you can, that is.
I don’t always think about tomorrow, though I am aware it’s there, that it exists, that it comes willingly, as the hours pass. But I think I’m the sort of person who gets her head stuck in the past (a possible source of my undoing, perhaps). When I do think about the future–a part of me feels that something is already laid out for me, and it fills me with dread. What if it’s not what I wanted? And do I even have a right to want? What if I found out that it’s been all for nothing, that the things may add up and mean nothing, in the end?
Defeatist, another part of me whispers.