You don’t have to do everything to be something - Lindsay Henry
Life is meant to be lived, not exhausted. Not full of stress and tired arms and sweaty palms because you are trying to keep the balls in the air while you keep yourself afloat.
Picture this: You’re standing in the middle of a gymnasium. One of your teachers or bosses or coaches—or some other type of authority figure that can occasionally make you nervous— walks into the gym. She has a small red bouncy ball.
“Hey. Catch.” She throws you the ball. “Now juggle.” She sits down on a bleacher bench, watching you. Waiting.
You catch the ball, and start throwing it up in the air, trying not to think about the fact that it technically isn’t juggling, since, you know, it’s just one ball. But that’s a technicality and it’s minor and you don’t want to sass the authority figure since she kinda makes you nervous. Especially since she’s just sitting there, all quiet on that bench.
But whatever. You keep throwing the ball. Then one of your best friends walks in.
“Hey!” She says. She’s holding a yellow bouncy ball, same size and shape as the ball you are throwing. “Catch!” She sits down next to the woman from earlier, nodding as if to say, “Now you can juggle.”
So you start to juggle the two balls—red, yellow, red, yellow, circling in the air. And right when you get the hang of it—“Hey this is awesome. I am totally juggling right now!”— two more friends come in. “Don’t forget about us!” they shout, throwing two balls at you—purple and blue—and sit down on the bleachers.
Goodness gracious, great balls of fire. Almost literally. Geez, you think.
Then your parents come in—“Hi, honey!” your mom shouts—and they throw you two more balls: green and orange. Of course they would.
Now you are juggling six balls. And it’s really freaking hard. The balls are a spinning rainbow of color, circling above your head like large Fruit Loops or something. Heck, you feel like a fruit loop, juggling these balls.
You’re aware of all of these people staring at you, watching you, wanting you to succeed—but you are only one person and you never really asked to juggle, did you? You were just standing in the gym. But you need to keep juggling. You need to succeed. You need to keep all of these balls in the air.
But you’re tired, so tired. Tired of the effort, tired of people watching you, tired of the fear of failure.
It’s hard to be everything to everyone. To do everything you can to keep yourself afloat while you’re barely hanging on. To get the right grades, hang out with all of your friends while making sure no friends are left out.
It’s hard to say no. It’s hard to give a piece of yourself to someone and get nothing in return but exhaustion and fear you are not good enough.
Honey, here’s what I have to say to you: Drop the bouncy balls. Let them all fall around you and echo across the gymnasium hardwood. Look across the gym to the bleachers where those people sit. They’re still there. You’re still there.
The world did not end because the bouncy balls dropped.
Stop and smell the roses. And the roses are everywhere–The scent of your sister’s newborn baby. The smell of the grass after it rains. The breeze on your fingertips as you lean your hand out the window, feeling the push and pull of the air.
Life is meant to be lived, not exhausted. Not full of stress and tired arms and sweaty palms because you are trying to keep the balls in the air while you keep yourself afloat.
If you are too busy being busy, being stressed doing too much too often, you miss it all. You miss your life. So breathe in. Breathe out. This is a life—your life.
If you feel the need to pick up some bouncy balls and juggle, go on and do it. But make sure you are doing it because you want to—not because someone said you should. And when you are juggling, don’t forget to breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth, making sure to smell the roses of life.
Drop the bouncy balls. And look around.
