There’s a lyric to a song that says, “all that I know is I’m breathing, all I can do is keep breathing.” That’s all I’m trying to do right now. Keep breathing. And it’s the only thing I’m certain of.
Since I was 15, I’ve been making 10-year plans. Mapping my goals and the steps it would take to get there, deciding on big careers and identities. I’ve always had some kind of plan for the future. As I’ve grown a bit older, I still make 10 year plans, but I do so with the understanding that everything will likely change. And when any changes have happened, I get excited because I get to sit down and re-write my 10-year plan. I have an entire binder dedicated to this process.
What I’m getting at is for the first time since I began this habit, I don’t have a fucking 10-year plan. I don’t have a plan for what’s going to happen three hours from now. I don’t have a plan for my next six months.
Right now, my biggest goal, the number one thing I am trying to achieve: see how long I can go without wearing a bra.
It’s cool and it’s the worst thing ever. I’m calm and I am losing my mind.