Who am I?

I am, as most complex human beings, a many things.

I am a man. I am 33 years old. I am a Metric fan.

I am a survivor of depression. I am an avid fan of Nintendo video games.

I am an aspiring writer. I am tired currently.

But, perhaps, the one thing I am, that is also the reason we are here, is this one: I am not satisfied with my life choices.

I don’t exercise enough. I don’t eat well. I feel like I could care a little more about my appearance.

As the fact that I’m over 30 may have already suggested, this isn’t the first time that I’ve acknowledged that feeling (at least to myself). In fact, it’s a periodic concept that revisits me, now and again, and stands in the way of ever truly feeling happy.

I think about it. I monologue internally until I have a plan of action. A path forward. But I never take a step onto this path. I know that even as I plan for what I should do. I know that part of me is afraid to begin.

But this false vision forward allows a respite from the guilt of not fixing the problem. It’s slightly relieving, sure, but it’s temporary. The dread comes back. And the relief these temporary measures offer is false. I never truly let reality escape my mind. I know it’s still there, lurking in the background, waiting to pounce back. And it does. These half-measures I take every time are just a snooze button, reminding me that I need to get up.

So what does one do? Especially in these times of Coronavirus, where so many of my postponed life choices have put me in a place where the reality now is that I have a higher risk of dying. When confronted with my mortality, I choose to do something new: force myself to deal with it.

Now is the time. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Not NYE 2021. Now. Like Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society, “Carpe Diem!”

No more hitting snooze. It’s time to wake up.

I have a new message and plan for myself.

Get it together.