Count to 10 and Start Again

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I graduated from college close to 10 years ago, but that doesn't stop me from calling some faculty there my advisors, some staff members my friends. Better? They let me, respond to me, and even advise me (in some cases they yell at me -- I promise I'm wearing close toed shoes with socks, Mama Suzy). For example. When Stigma Fighters contacted me on Twitter asking if I'd be interested in writing for them, I kind of flipped my lid. Having The Huffington Post say, "Sure, you can blog on the site," was exciting, but it was different because that was me seeing that HuffPost was looking for bloggers and thus sending in a submission piece. This? This was me doing nothing more than retweeting an article they had put up and them saying, "Hey, want to write for us?"

Me being me, I took to social media. This was someone I didn't know -- in any way shape or form -- and this person thought my writing worthwhile. I got a lot of comments on my Facebook post from friends of varying intimacy saying, "Of course." That also felt good. Among the many comments was one of my advisors saying, "Keep going." Because my advisors never really cease to make me think, I've been thinking about this for a while now.

What does "keep going" mean to me? I realized that, particularly of late, my days have been less about "keeping going" and more about "not stopping." As the Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt says, "Count to 10 and, when you're done, start again." I feel like a lot of my life has been a series of ten seconds. I guess that's okay so long as, as soon as I finish 10 seconds, I start again. My gauge for judging success isn't too strict or high: Get through a day. Cross something off my To Do list. Get through 10 seconds. Start on another 10 seconds. Thinking deeper than that or trying for more than that is often paralyzing.

Just writing this piece is paralyzing. I wonder if I'm ever going to have a day when my life isn't going to consist of a series of ten seconds. I wonder if I'll ever have a day in my life when my life, consisting of a series of 10 seconds, isn't terrifying.

I have yet to reach that point.