What We're Waiting For

[Note: I don’t want anyone to start thinking this is a “self-help” blog. If anything, it’s the anti-self-help, self-help, anti-motivational, motivational blog. Because I’m not here to share what we could be doing better, and I’m not here to tell you a “before” story, an “after story” or anything that comes in between.

I think it’s better to think we are just living our lives day to day, at varying levels of satisfaction or dissatisfaction. Both are totally fine, by the way. We don’t need to hyper-analyze whether we’ve reached contentment homeostasis, okay?]

The new year prompts us to come to terms with what we are satisfied or dissatisfied with—usually it's something in ourselves. Consequently, we take inventory of the past year and we plan our resolutions, to different degrees of enthusiasm.

I didn’t plan a resolution this year. In the first week of my new job, I scribbled the following on a sticky note: “Don’t Wait.” (Sorry, I actually wrote it carefully in big block letters, but I thought "scribbling" lends a romanticism to my sticky note, so I fudged that part for what I believe lends some vague artistic value).

I was reminded of my sticky note after a conversation with a brilliant writer/composer this past week. He's someone who, along with his writing partner, gave me an opportunity to perform in a cabaret in New York years ago, the possibility of which I had never contemplated as a student.

I asked about how he forges ahead and does what is important to him creatively, even when life “things” get in the way. He provided me with a slew of tangible, actionable advice. But honestly? He also said, “just f***ing do it.” On a follow-up call, he echoed his advice, adding that we should not wait.

I thought back to my sticky note and what it meant. I had, of course, taken my sticky note to mean the following: “Don’t wait to ask a colleague a clarifying question.” “Don’t wait to voice your interest in a topic you’d like to know more about.” “Don’t wait for the answers to come to you—do the work to figure them out as best you can yourself first.” But “don’t wait” also wholeheartedly meant the following: “Don’t wait to take out the trash.” “Don’t wait to read that book.” “Don’t wait to unpack that moving box, and that one, and that one.” “Don’t wait to reach out to so-and-so about such-and-such creative endeavor.” "Don't even wait to watch that new TV show, instead of turning on the same comfort movie for the 10th time."

So "don't wait" wasn't even all that ambitious. It was more like my anti-procrastination mantra. And it haunts me, because I am the person who waits.

My spring semester of college, senior year, I ditched my Economics honors thesis, and took ballet five times a week instead. By the spring semester of college, senior year, I had been a chorister for 9 years. But I went to law school and all but hung up my character shoes. I went to… a single audition for a regional theatre. I was proud that I had done even that much, but felt I had given up when I didn't try any more. I treasured the community I gained in our law school’s a capella group (an experience for which I am eternally grateful), but I never again joined a traditional choir, something that had been a constant and a comfort in my life for nearly a decade. I can count the number of ballet classes I took in those three years on one hand. Waiting was my exercise, and I made law school my "excuse."

But tenuous an excuse it was, because I still saw my peers doing creative things. Of course I compared myself. And of course my feelings of inadequacy grew. Because we were taking the same classes, but they were putting on their own concerts. They were putting together bands. They were writing songs. They were brewing hand-crafted beer. In other words, they just did it. And they did it with an independence and sense of leadership and tenacity that felt foreign to me. I'm not a leader--I'm a follower. I don't take charge, I wait. So what was I waiting for, and why couldn’t I find it in myself to do what they were doing?

In February 2020, I just did it. I performed for one night, in my first musical in at least three years, in complete bliss, not knowing that beyond my good fortune just to be part of the show, that I also had just barely made the cut-off before Covid hit.

Then Covid hit. And again, I waited.

But imagine my shame when I again saw peers, acquaintances, or strangers, doing all of the things I still could not fathom doing myself. Livestreaming concerts, putting together musicals on film. Or even some beautifully simple things: taking a ballet class over zoom; joining a choir online. They did something. I made roughly three loaves of bread, bought $40 of painting supplies (since misplaced) during a short-lived crafting phase of Covid, and watched Frasier about 70% of the rest of the time. I was still waiting.

Yet I studied for the bar exam. I took that bar exam, passed it, started a job, surrounded myself with brilliant people (remotely, that is), and moved to NY. I've been living, certainly. I am challenged every day by smart people and novel information. My good fortune is compounded by the fact that I have been granted these opportunities in a time of unprecedented struggle for so many during a global pandemic. And even so--I am STILL waiting. I can't help it.

That’s why it’s so hard to come up with resolutions. That’s why “don’t wait” is so loaded even with those two words. Sometimes you don’t even know what you’re waiting for. My solution to dealing with what I was dissatisfied with in myself was to stop waiting, but by doing so, I issued myself an impossible order.

Because there's probably no waiting--there's only living.

I’m not looking for reassurance, or to reassure you. I'm not telling you, or even me, that you mustn't wait to do what you love, and that if you're waiting, you're not taking advantage of the present moment. I'm not telling you to compare yourself to others, as I so readily do. And I’m not telling you that if you have waited too long to do something, that your flame goes out.

I’m saying that no matter how long you feel like you’ve waited—whether or not you know what you’re waiting for—your experiences and passions are a part of you. You are living them right now. You deserve to explore them on your own terms, when you have the time and energy to commit to them.

Because you weren’t just waiting. You were living. You were creating something new. And in the meantime, you did what you could. Maybe all the other stuff is just waiting for you.

So when you’re ready, sure. Try to find room for those things that have been waiting for you. Trust me, when I figure out how to achieve this on ANY level, I will let you know. That’s why this is the anti-motivational post; I’m not here with answers; I’m just posing questions. Anything else on my part would be false advertising.

Can I ask: What have you been waiting for? And what is waiting for you?