On Day 2

The Everyday Work of Building a Life That Matters

I recently escaped to the mountains to mark a Big Anniversary. I needed some time away from the demands and the doubts and the daily obligations that seem to drain my inspiration away before I even recognize it’s there. The messy in-between these days looks like burnout, brain fog, and physical exhaustion. I’ve been ready to find the real me again for a long time.

I marked what would have been my 25th wedding anniversary with flowers and a nice meal for just me, alone among the mountains and trees. I dressed up, wore jewelry, did my makeup, and took some pictures to send to friends and even shared them on the socials because I felt better than I thought I would, spending this day alone.

Photo credit: me, because I was alone in the mountains

While I was away, I journaled about some big dreams. I decided this Big Anniversary, 25 years from what was supposed to be happily-ever-after, 12 years from the time when that happily-ever-after crumbled, would be a chapter end. The day after the Big Anniversary was Day 1 of the next 25 years. I was excited about possibilities, hopeful for big changes and big impact and big usefulness.

I felt really good about the resolutions I made on that Day 1, even if I was already feeling frustrated about being “behind” my peers in ways I won’t get into in this post. I was full of unusual-for-me ambition. World-changing fire.

But when I woke up on Day 2, that fire had gone out. The cool grey of the sky that gave me rest the preceding days now meant a dreary drive home. The reality of cleaning up a temporary residence and returning to the everyday mess of life settled on me. Once again, I wondered if I’d been too hasty in setting goals for such a long period of time - there are so many unpredictable factors in life. What if I can’t achieve all that I want to? What if the life I want is not what God wants from me?

Imposter syndrome has many symptoms.

As I started my trip back to my home, I lamented over how quickly I’d lost all my momentum. How Day 2 seemed to be setting itself up to be just like all the days that led me to need that break. I berated myself, a little, with all the “shoulds” and “coulds” that a good friend calls out immediately; I wasn’t in the mood to be a good friend to myself that day.

Somewhere around the halfway point of my drive, the skies cleared, and so did my mood. I recognized that each day of the next 25 can either be a Day 1 or a Day 2. I don’t have a magnificent productivity plan to turn the feelings of a Day 2 into the actions of a Day 1. All I know is that I need to be willing to look each day in the face, recognize what kind of day it is (or has been), and allow it to be what it is. There is time for all the things we are meant to accomplish.

We’re not behind.

And even if we are, we’re not alone. Maybe we’re not meant to be at the forefront of our passion project. Maybe we’re meant to be in the middle of those learning and processing. Or maybe we’re meant to be at the rear of the crowd letting people know there’s still time to join us. Sometimes what’s needed is not more shouting, but more quiet encouragement, faithful prayer, and reminding each other of the big dreams and purposes we’ve shared in delicate moments of trust.

Sometimes what’s needed is…more quiet encouragement, faithful prayer, and reminding each other of the big dreams and purposes we’ve shared in delicate moments of trust.

My mom was someone like this.

In the last few weeks, I’ve thought a lot about my mom, and all the dreams she had. She wanted to open a little shop in a touristy town, selling a variety of small decor and inspirational items. She would call it the What-Not Shop. She wanted to raise alpacas. The idea of those ridiculous smiling, spitting animals brought her so much joy. And in the end she stayed in the comfortable cocoon we had created together.

I’ve wished that I could ask her what she would do differently, but I feel like I know the answer would be, “Nothing. I wouldn’t trade a single minute of the life we lived together for anything else.”

Because Day 2s still create beautiful realities, beautiful lifetimes, if we let them be what they are and allow ourselves to be who we are in them. The Day 2s of our lives are the soft backdrop against which the Day 1s truly shine.

And that comfortable cocoon my mom and I created together allowed me to heal and grow and become the me I am today, unafraid to dream, and less afraid than I used to be to try to make those dreams happen.