When I Stopped Holding My Breath

Lately, what I have learned is this: I cannot suspend my life until the “dark patch” is over to live it fully. I cannot keep waiting for the stars to align for me to find my smile and breathe again.

So, I will do the work I love, for as long as I can, even though I don’t know how long I can hold onto it. I will always be swimming in a sea of uncertainties.

As mortal beings,

we are always craving certainty.

More, and then more,

and it is never enough.

We want to know our finances will hold,

that taxes will get paid, that the numbers will add up.

We want the nods of approval, to know our job will last

for many more tomorrows.

We want love to stay love, always honest, always anchored, always loyal.

We want our friends to be the forever kind,

to never blur into past tense when we blink.

We want the map to remain the same —

always intact, neighbors waving with friendliness,

no new borders drawn while we sleep.

We want our body to stay a silent, uncomplaining ally,

that no hidden malignant cell is growing inside us.

All those always and never we crave.

Don’t they just grow like weeds?

We suspend our life waiting for that ‘time’ to come —

when the dark patch lifts,

the letter arrives,

the phone rings.

We wait, and wait, for when

we have everyone’s approval,

what we grieve stops hurting,

who we long for finally looks back.

our bully at last releases us.

When silence,

at last, means peace.

We tell ourselves: “When this is over, I will breathe again.”

But here is the truth:

Craving certainty, while human, is dangerously addictive.

The more answers we chase, the more fear we uncover.

The more safety we seek, the more fragile life feels.

We look for new ways to make the world secure, to make it predictable, to make it neat.

Meanwhile, life does not wait.

It keeps moving, messy and relentless, while we

turn a blind eye to the truth that life is shifting under our feet.

The reality is that there is no solid ground, only a flowing river.

And as we know, no one steps into the same river twice.

Our only way to be is to meet life as it is — fluid, unpredictable, and fleeting.

Not to fix it, but to be with it.

And yet, we resist.

We find ways to deny our fragility, our impermanence.

We distract ourselves with routines, bury ourselves in tasks.

We cling to the illusion of control, hoping it will shield us from the truth we are too afraid to name:

Our impending mortality.

While we suspend our lives — our joy, our courage, our biggest smiles — waiting for certainty and answers

life rushes past us.

memento mori.

Our end-date does not pause for us to tie up loose ends.

Do we really have the luxury to ‘wait until’?

Life does not pause for us to set the stage with our craving for control and perfection.

It spills forward, untidy and relentless.

So,

Say what you mean.

Scream as loud as you need to.

Tell them you love them.

Tell them you are upset.

Laugh and cry as much as you need.

Do the work you love.

Make the art you make and screw perfection.

Do it.

Do it with the questions unanswered, with the weight still on your shoulders.

Live now,

because you just cannot afford to wait ‘until then’.

And so, I, too, have decided

I will breathe, act, love, and create — before the river carries me to its end.

Life does not wait, and neither would I.