The first 20 years or so of our lives are broken into digestible chunks. Infancy and toddler years are hard to recall exactly, but I know there was structure. Square meals and a sleeping regiment. Little other than eating, bathing, and sleeping to occupy the days. But it was glorious I bet. When napping was compulsory and everything was new. No need to pretend we were seeing things for the first time, because we actually were.
Elementary, middle, and high school all followed in line. Years spent here and there, but always towards a common goal. College, a career, or both simultaneously. College was a whirlwind, but by far my favorite learning environment; I am not exactly itching to go back to high school anytime soon. Remarkable opportunities at our fingertips. (Steep tuition probably made that possible.) Learning for the sake of learning, and musing about what might be if we strive.
Beckon adulthood. The great open-ended, and ideally long chapter. Newfound responsibilities and the uncertainty of it all. It's rather easy to get overwhelmed when I think about all the moving pieces. Things to do and see. People to connect and in some cases reconnect with. Skills to learn, because the stalled economy is not going to beat down my door for being mediocre. Money to save? Someday soon, hopefully.
A friend of the family told me a helpful tidbit that has stuck with me for some time now. So simple, but so perfect.
"You're carrying too many books! Your stack will be too heavy to manage. Read one book at a time."
Challenges will come, and victories too. But they should be managed as they unfold, not before. I am the Queen of worrying about something before it comes (if it ever does) so in essence I am expending valuable energy on something that may never come to be. It is important to stay present in the moment. I have to train myself to do just that, but it is a worthy undertaking. Take one book off the pile at a time, and chip away.