The older I get, the more I’m convinced life was never meant to be finished.

Why is it, things never really feel settled? There’s always something else to do. Something else to clean. And despite everything you do it’s never done. Is that the way life’s designed or is it more of a human error kinda thing? 

Lately, much to my annoyance, I’ve found myself coming back to that question more often than intended. 

The room is almost finished, but not quiet. 

I have a recovering cat, while the others seem hellbent to create entirely new problems. 

I’ve completed one load of laundry just for the basket to be full again. 

One task completed at work invites six more to fill the space. 

Even the days that feel productive never quite feel accomplished or complete. 

Honestly? Sometimes It feels like what’s the point, you know? 

Like if I spend enough time waiting for things to calm down, it eventually will.

As if one day I’ll wake up and everything will finally feel handled.

But the more my brain works it out, the more, it feels like I’m expecting a point where it’s not going to be.

Maybe the problem is that I’ve decided peace is a reward.

Maybe the problem isn’t actually the laundry, the unfinished room, or even the never-ending list of things demanding attention. 

Maybe the problem is that I’ve decided peace is a reward. 

Something that’s waiting on the other side of a completed task. 

As if everything from the room, misbehaving cats, to the financial stability with everything settled and in order is completed, then I’ll be allowed to relax. 

But the truth is, everytime one thing is checked off another thing will take its place. 

Not as a punishment.

Not because life hates me.

Not because I’ve done something wrong. 

But because that’s just how life works.

Things wear out.

Cats get sick. 

Projects take longer than expected. 

New responsibilities show up without permission and the lists are constantly changing.

It’s a bit funny actually… None of these things is new to me. 

The room’s been unfinished for a few weeks. 

The bills are monthly recurrences. 

Works always been a bit complicated

And my cats have never really been the definition of an angel. 

Yet despite knowing this I still feel completely overwhelmed by it all. 

Life isn’t measured by how heavy a load we can carry.

Sometimes that means days feel like you’re drowning and other times you’re floating. 

Life isn’t measured by how heavy a load we can carry.

It’s taken a lot for me to realize just because life is kicking my butt particularly hard right now doesn’t have to mean, I’m never catching up on laundry, or missing assignments, or even completing the room. 

But maybe instead of thinning that being settled means a destination, it means finding that quiet moment when my head gets loud. 

Don’t rush through my morning coffee. 

Actually putting away one clean pile of laundry. 

The more I think the more I wonder if my thinking that peace only comes after everything is handled was wrong. 

Maybe it’s actually supposed to work in tandem with the things that still need handling–like a partnership. 

Life may not ever be completely settled, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find a way to feel settled myself.

More soon,

Quill