There’s a quote from The Office (US) that’s currently preoccupying my mind. “I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.” Said in the series finale by the usually angry, often sycophantic, Andy Bernard, better known for constantly name dropping his ivy league education than for his profundity, this has been the inspiration for many a meme and greeting card in the decade since the show ended.
There’s a sadness to it. A feeling, that the best is now behind you. Remorse, that you didn’t realise it at the time.
The past
When I was younger, I either analysed the past with regret, or looked to the future with trepidation. I found it impossible to sit in the present moment. To appreciate the here and now. Instead, I sped through life, ticking off milestones while barely experiencing them. Always leaning out for the next thing. Wanting more, bigger, better.
It’s difficult for me not to mourn elements of my past. My daughter’s childhood, carefully chronicled and faithfully photographed, but only half lived. The early years of my marriage, when I acted the part I thought I needed to play instead of just being myself.
On the outside, I had a good life. The reality though, was that I had no idea who I was supposed to be. I tried on different personas like swapping clothes: the Stepford wife, the perfect mum, the selfless daughter, the loyal employee. Trying so hard to figure out how I was supposed to present to the world. Suppressing who I really was for fear that it wouldn’t be enough.
I thought that life had to be big for it to be meaningful. Grand declarations of love. Long-haul holidays. The posh house. Lots of stuff. I took the rest – the subtle gestures, the little things – for granted.
The present
Now, my life is filled with joy. Maybe this is the natural order of things at this stage of life. Middle age, for me at least, provides a measure of financial security. My decades long marriage bears the fruit of familiarity and, as much as can be possible, certainty. There’s a contentment in knowing your person inside and out. An ease that comes with marital shorthand and years of accumulated in-jokes. A satisfaction that we didn’t bail during those difficult times, that could easily have gone another way.
I’m certain that I had to go through all of those iterations of myself in order to step into the person I am today. I’ve no doubt that the bad times were necessary, in order to be able to cherish the good.
These experiences give me an appreciation for the life I have now. For my beautiful home, my happy marriage, my child who is still, somewhat, under our control and protection. My family, close by. My parents – my own – health.
Good doesn’t mean perfect
One of the mistakes I made in my past was that I equated hard to wrong. A mindset that often saw me striving for a perfection that just doesn’t exist. One that, thankfully, I have managed to transcend. Life can be hard, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t good.
While my life is good, it’s never going to be perfect. My mother-in-law is sick. Next week I’ll be attending my third funeral in as many months. I face overwhelming uncertainty with my work. And the whole world is seemingly falling apart. Then there are the little niggles. The miscommunication that can lead to crossed words. The unexpected heartache that comes with raising a teenager. What can still sometimes feel like the daily grind.
Good doesn’t necessarily mean exciting either. Well, I guess that depends on perspective. There’s a perception that our younger years were the good old days. When my body was firm, my skin collagen fresh and all I had to think about was finding a few quid for my next night out. And sure, there were a crazy few years where it probably looked as though I was living the dream. But the reality is, I have to look back on them – the all night raves, the drink and drugs, the promiscuity – through squinted eyes. Because that was never the real me. If it were, I’m not sure I’d be able to live with some of the things I did. The people I hurt. Myself included. The truth is, those were the days I couldn’t wait to escape.
Beauty in the ordinary
These days, I believe that there’s bliss to found in the simpleness of the everyday. My husband and I sharing our morning walk. Twenty minutes of yoga before the school run. Baking sourdough. Eating (but not so much cooking) fresh, healthy food (or a nice piece of cake). Writing. Going to bed early to read.
This quote suggests, nostalgically, that our best days are behind us. But as Dwight Schrute, another unlikely source of The Office wisdom, points out: “People underestimate the power of nostalgia. It is truly one of the greatest human weaknesses, second only to the neck. “
I agree. Forget nostalgia. True power lies in finding gratitude in the NOW.
What I have realised is this. I am in the good old days. This is it.
I’m present in a way I have never been before. Living my life in real time, thankful for everything that brings, both good and bad. My life is pretty ordinary AND it has never been better.
Which leads me to once last quote from that final episode of The Office. This time from Pam Halpert:
“There’s a lot of beauty in ordinary things. Isn’t that kind of the point?”
