April 27, 2025
I have a confession that will shock no one: uncertainty is very, very difficult for me. Even as several positive transformations have been taking place in my life, I feel concern about the unknowns and the things that are left to do. I could have 98 percent of my day planned but spend it all worrying about that last two percent.
On the other hand, I regularly engage in spontaneous walks and drives this time of year if the weather and timing feel right. (My use of the phrase “engage in” proves that spontaneity is not my strong suit.) I go through self-conscious phases when I feel sure that I’m always late, I’m not put together, and I don’t have a clue. And yet, there are gifts for my loved ones that are meant for Christmas 2025 sitting in my apartment as I write this. Do I fall into both camps, or neither?
I can handle the day-to-day planning or the lack thereof. What bothers me (and has caused no shortage of teeth-grinding) is the question of how my life will look one, two, five, or fifty years from now. The recent political upheaval has underscored this question. Even if things turn out okay, will I even recognize the world by then?
I’m trying to take action to stem the tide of anxiety. I have a space at the community garden where I can attempt to grow my own food. I’ve joined groups of like-minded people who provide a safe local space for venting or just shaking one’s head at the state of things. I drink coffee, which makes everything better. And as a fellow member of a leadership program said to my cohort recently, no matter how hard things get I can still count on “a warm bed and a roof over my head.” This will be my mantra as I settle into a new chapter.
Driftless Grace 