We talked about becoming derailed today. About derailment as a temporary diversion. About derailment as fertile ground for gaining new learning, new experiences. About derailment as a means to an end. Except in my world of black and white, moving forward and becoming derailed are mutually exclusive.
Once upon a time, I believed in utopia. I believed in a perfect world inhabited by perfect beings achieving perfect things. Except in my world of darkness and light, reality is often far removed from perfection.
I had many dreams growing up. Fanciful ones like winning the Nobel Prize or becoming a farmer’s wife. Realistic ones like going to college, earning my own keep, getting married. I invested myself into every dream I could hope to achieve, found myself beaten down and derailed at many points. As if for every step I take to move forward, I am forced to take two steps back.
“It’s just life”, I console myself.