Living in the moment is enough

As a girl in her early 20s, I once decided to put myself out there. The pandemic had robbed most of my generation of our last few years of university. I felt like I was running out of time to make something out of my life and to live it to the fullest. In those moments, I could never be doing enough; I had to always be doing more, making the most out of every situation, and squeezing it to my fullest advantage.

I decided to make a list. On my phone, I meticulously noted down the sports I’d play, the clubs and committees I’d join, even the charities and churches I’d volunteer for. I reached out to old professors and former classmates—all because I wanted to help, to be of use wherever I was needed. I told myself I would say yes to every invite and opportunity. Back then, I just wanted to do something with my life.

When the fog of the pandemic finally began lifting—and the haze of quarantine grew into a distant memory—people began gathering again. It slowly seemed like we were all integrating into society once more.

But over time, my list fell apart. People—including me—got progressively busier with work. We were spread too thinly across the breadth of our ambitions, and inadvertently burnt out. There was so much to attend to, and very little time, it seemed. But most people, having gotten used to the privacy of their own homes, decided to quietly retreat into their shells; such was the nature of a post-COVID world.

I was doing all I could to not plunge back into those dark days where I had nothing but my thoughts and my fear of wasted potential to keep me company.

I was still plagued by the notion that I wasn’t living life to the fullest. There was an ever-present worry that I wasn’t doing enough, only matched by an ever-present desire to do more. Should I have joined more extracurriculars? Should I have gone abroad for college instead, or done more side hustles? If even now my lofty plans to be “productive” at life had petered out, what was I to do next?

One day, I was clearing out my phone and saw old photos of myself from 2022 and 2023. In that moment, I was filled with so much longing and regret. How I dearly missed those years when I still had a lot of time, although unfortunately, I didn’t know it yet then. Fresh out of college, I was still worrying about my next big move. Little did I know that I should have enjoyed those moments more because now I have real things to worry about. (Or do I? Perhaps I’ll look back one day and realize the truth.)

I realized: I’m still quite young. So why did I feel like I was running out of time? Why did I feel that the best thing to do then—when I had so much of that slowly-dwindling resource—was to live in the fear of not upholding a picture-perfect future? What if two years from now, I find myself once again looking back at pictures of myself and thinking: Why didn’t I enjoy myself more?

It dawned upon me that I was still doing it now: I was not enjoying myself. My mind continued to search for the next thing to fret about, and unless I let go of that constant, inherent need for stressing a point, I would come to regret that I was not relishing the immense privilege of simply living in the moment.

There’s still much work to be done. I can prepare all I want: pore over educational tomes, exhaust myself at work, and set out to meet the right people. All done to show that in my quest to live a meaningful life, I had left no stone unturned. But I need to accept that I cannot control every aspect of my life. However, I can control my reaction to it.

Now, I no longer need to be tethered to some invisible finish line or ticking things off some imaginary checklist. I don’t have to agonize over my next move, or the what-ifs and whatnots. I can simply live in the now and bask in the gift of life, the promise of the future. Those heartbreaking times are now far behind me. I’m grateful to have found my people.

Sometimes I’m still plagued by that old fear that I could be exerting all efforts and doing my best, yet my dreams will still come to naught. That coffee chat, that work pitch—all could simply be the next thing that will not bring me fulfillment. But I’ve learnt to live with that, to accept that not everything will turn out the way I want—and that’s okay. Positive thinking and a good grasp of the present help a lot; a lightness of heart and being bring so much more joy and opportunities than worrying ever will.

And I believe that there are still better days ahead.

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Caitlin Anne Young, 25, has worked in banking her whole life, but writing is her first love.