The Pressure of What’s Next

How can enjoy my victories when there’s still so much to do.

Image by: Aaron Blanco

What’s next?

What’s next, what’s next, what’s next?

Just this past week, I reached a financial milestone I’d set for myself at the beginning of last year. It was a moment for me. A moment to be proud, to take a minute to reflect on an achievement 12 months in the making. I sat alone in my room and stared out the window trying to absorb what was surely a milestone accomplishment.

But all I could think of is what’s next. What is next?

This pressure I’m feeling is all self-inflicted. My life is the calmest it’s ever been. My daughter let me read an essay she wrote and in it, she says that she’s genuinely happy. So financially I feel secure, my family is happy, yet I’m overcome by this intense pressure to do more. To be more.

And I don’t know how to turn it off. I don’t even want to turn it off. What I want is for the person I see in my mind to protrude into reality. I still feel like I’m in this shell that’s falling off bit by bit when all I really want to do is break through the damn thing.

But something’s holding me back. Not doubt or fear or not knowing what I want to accomplish. It’s neither of those things. It’s like I know all the answers to the test but I’m not ready to check all the boxes. It’s like I’m seeing who I could be, knowing what I could be, but dealing with the frustration and anxiety of how slowly it’s taking me to get there.

And I don’t want to be patient. If someone else tells me, “Things take time,” or “Your time will come soon,” I’m going to grab whatever’s closest and throw it across the room. I’m going to put my face into a pillow and scream and scream till I bypass being patient and fast-forward to the life I’ve already made clear in my mind.

YOU

I see what’s happening. I see all of it. I’ve tried being patient through all these announcements by other writers. I’ve tried being positive as more and more readers are finally starting to CRY with me. I’m trying not to commit the cardinal sin of comparison, and on my better days, may actually succeed.

But then the timer in my head starts ticking away. The hourglass has flipped. A stopwatch with no end in sight.

“What’s next,” I say. “What’s next…

CRY

The Pressure of What’s Next was originally published in C.R.Y on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.