I start too many sentences with “I wish…”
I wish I didn’t do that.
That seemed redundant didn’t it? I catch myself during the day wishing I could be at home doing something I want to do, instead of something I have to do. Then I regret that thought because there are so many who want a job. The guilt starts to wash over me and I remember that I have a home because I do work. I can do things when I am not working, that I want to do, because I am working. I can buy things I want, for the most part, because I do work. It’s not that I don’t want to work. I don’t mind work. I think, maybe, I mind that work isn’t always something I can control, or direct, or even feel good about. I suppose most people have days like that at work. I’m not miserable with my work, though sometimes it’s not altogether pleasant. I see some pretty unpleasant and/or sad things. And I can handle that stuff pretty well. Maybe the thing about my work is that I work because others are not taken care of, or are hurt, or abused, or are hungry. Maybe I would feel better if there wasn’t a need for my work.
That’s a little off the subject. I wanted to talk about wishing. I am very careful not to say “I wish it was Friday” when it is 6:02 a.m. on Monday. I don’t mind Monday mornings. Or any morning. I don’t want to wish my life away. But when I catch myself wishing some things in my life were somehow different I then get this overwhelming sense of guilt and shame. For everything that I wish was different, someone else would wish they were where I am. I try to be aware of that. No matter where I am, someone else is in a worse place. And they would be happy to trade places with me. No matter what I am doing, someone else is doing something much worse. No matter what I wish I had, others are wishing for the basics in life to survive. There is so much to be grateful for, even when times are difficult, that I want to always be aware of the gifts in my life. I don’t want to take this life and what I have for granted. Ever.
Even when I make a simple little wish in passing to be home reading a book on a rainy day instead of being at work. Which is what started me thinking about this today.