The Waiting Room

Last summer we drove to Norway with the caravan.

A few years ago I would have planned every detail. The entire route. Every stop. Exact locations. And we would have stuck to it, no going off course.

This summer we had a couple of areas we wanted to see. That was it.

We followed the weather. Planned a day or two ahead, sometimes not even that. Decided in the morning whether to stay or move.

The Manager hated this.

What if you don't find a spot? What if the weather changes? You need to know where you're going.

But we didn't need to know.

Rain forecast? We moved to a sunnier place. Someone mentioned a beautiful area? We went.

Old me would have been planning this trip for months. Daydreaming about each location. Visualizing the views. Living mentally in Norway while still in Sweden.

By the time we arrived, I would have already experienced it dozens of times in my head.

This past summer, I experienced Norway when I was in Norway.

Not before. Not in my imagination. When I was there.

How I Used to Live

I used to live in imagined futures.

Constantly daydreaming. Visualizing. Planning scenarios that hadn't happened yet.

Waiting for the weekend. Counting down to trips. Imagining conversations before they occurred.

Something exciting coming? I'd mentally already be there. The present was just time to get through.

I thought that was excitement.

It wasn't excitement. It was absence.

My daughters' mornings when I was mentally already in the afternoon. Tuesdays I treated as obstacles between Monday and Wednesday. Conversations where I was planning what I'd say next instead of listening. Meals I ate while thinking about what came after.

All those moments were my life. And I was somewhere else.

Four Days Before Our New Dog

This winter. Four days before our new dog was arriving.

I noticed something strange.

I wasn't counting down. Wasn't thinking I can't wait or can it be Saturday already.

I was just... there. As present in the Tuesday as if nothing special was happening on the Saturday.

And when I noticed this, I was stunned.

Old me would have been consumed. Planning exactly how to introduce her. Visualizing the first moments. Playing scenarios over and over. The whole week would have been something to get through — mentally already living in Saturday.

But that week I thought about the dog when it came up. Felt happy when I did. And then came back to that Tuesday.

Not avoiding it. Just not hijacked by it.

That's when Norway made sense.

I hadn't been living in the future there either. I'd just been present with planning when it was time to plan, and present with Norway when I was there. Living it without understanding it.

Now I could see the pattern.

Now

I still get excited for things to come.

But the excitement doesn't pull me out of the present anymore.

I can think about Saturday and feel happy without leaving Tuesday.

It feels strange sometimes. Like I should be more occupied with what's ahead. The Manager thinks so:

You're not prepared enough. You should be planning more. This is irresponsible.

But I'm not being irresponsible.

I'm just here.

And when it's time to be there, I'll be there. Fully. Not having already lived it dozens of times in my imagination.

Actually there. For the first time.

Our dog arrived. I was fully there when she came home — meeting her as she actually was, not as I'd imagined her.

Norway was alive in ways my mental rehearsals never could have been.

And that Tuesday morning — ordinary, unspectacular — was also my life.

Not the waiting room.

🌲