Don't spend your whole life waiting to start living

I feel like I’m always waiting for the day that I’ll finally start living. One day, I tell myself, I’ll start enjoying the days that I’m now only motioning through. I’ve given myself more excuses than I can count for why this hasn’t happened yet. It’s always, “I’ll finish studying for the exam this week and then give myself a break.” Or “I might be overwhelmingly busy because of swim team, but everything will be better once the season’s over.” Or even, “Hey, I might be in over my head right now, but once I graduate from high school, everything will have been worth it. I’ll love my life then.” And you’re scoffing, because I’m basically lying to myself. But the thing is, I know those lies aren’t true. I know there won’t ever be a moment when I can finally decide that it’s time to start focusing on enjoying life. After all, swim season just ended, and nothing is better because it’s over. But that doesn’t stop me from packing my schedule so full with activities and courses that sleep starts to become a luxury. 

There’s a mindset that I’ve encountered frequently in the world around me. I hear it echoed by my parents, repeated by my friends, and reinforced by media: you have to work hard now so that life is enjoyable later. You have to put in effort during high school to get into a good college, push through college to get a good job, or maybe even a good graduate or medical school. And I think a part of us thinks that once we get there—get into that school or land that job—that we’ll feel like we’ve succeeded and finally have the luxury of contentment. But does it ever end? There’s always that next landmark, that upcoming goal, accompanied by ever-increasing pressure to do well. Once you’re finally admitted to your dream school, won’t you feel the need to back up that success in that top-tier environment you worked so hard to be part of? Once you finally land that job, won’t you want that big promotion? Life’s a never-ending race to get to the top—or at least not be at the bottom—and I’m scared of falling behind. 

I’m scared of failure. I’m scared of not doing enough with my time, and I’m scared of not achieving enough. I’m scared that one day, years from now, I’ll wake up and wonder why I’m not someone better. 

My new tab page, which shows me a quote every day, must have sensed my inner turmoil because it gave me this one by Eckhart Tolle: “It is not uncommon for people to spend their whole life waiting to start living.” It was a bullet to the heart. Eckhart Tolle was describing me. He took everything that I was—am—experiencing, and summed it up into that fifteen-word sentence. And that’s when it really struck me: maybe what I should really be afraid of is not failing to succeed, but going through my entire life waiting for that ever-elusive moment.

If I couldn’t fail in life, I would start living. If I knew I would one day meet my own standards of success, there wouldn't be the fear of ending up as nobody, and I would be free to pursue the humbler dreams that currently get overshadowed by the shinier ones. I could do the things that excite me, but that I can’t find time for because of the commitments that are already packed into every hour of every one of my days. I’d wake up every morning to go on a run with my dog, something that brought me so much peace over quarantine, but that I haven’t done in half a year because I don’t have the energy to get up an hour earlier. I would start a tiny brownie business since I love baking, but that I could never do now because I don’t even have time to make myself food. (Thank goodness for my parents.)  

If I couldn’t fail, I’d learn a couple lessons from my younger sister. I used to think she wasn’t motivated enough because she never had goals to do anything. Ever since elementary school, she spent her free time listening to book podcasts and writing her own novels, but she never cared to make anything out of her hobbies. I would wonder why she didn’t publish her writing or enter it into competitions while simultaneously envying her freedom to do things she loved without being plagued by expectations. Then, a few years ago, she published a book. This summer, she started a podcast with her friend. Last month, she submitted an entry to an essay contest (with the encouragement of her teacher, which is apparently more convincing than mine). Because they stemmed from interests she had pursued without pressuring herself to succeed, her accomplishments built up naturally. Her hobbies didn’t turn into a source of stress, she had fun along the way, and her love of books is just as strong as it was before she made something out of it.

From my sister, I’ve learned that outward success is only meaningful if it accompanies internal joy. It only feels like a true victory if you win both inside and out—if you pursue something you love and find accomplishments because of your passion, not pressure to show it off. Success feels the sweetest when it’s a by-product of your interests, not when it is your interest.