Comparison - the Thief of Joy

I returned to the Yucatan Coast this year to find familiar faces absent from the small hotel that has been my vacation home for at least a week each year, over more than half of my life. The Sargasso was thick and extensive—so much so that the seas were not always swimmable. My sister’s delayed arrival meant I spent more time alone than planned. And on the first night of my trip, my four-year-old rescue dog Willis was admitted to a pet hospital back home in Connecticut.

But, I had wanted different.

One of the challenges of late middle age, as I approach senior status, is insidious comparison. Why is not today as it was before when I want it to be, and when what I want is to have the present as wonderful as my memories. Did I fully cherish my past time in Mexico with my young family during our visits in the early 2000s? Did I hold close the moments that, in retrospect, may have been some of the best times?

Lately, life has felt very heavy. A difficult passage for one of my grown and flown, for whom I wish a better world. A home challenge for an employee. A dear friend awaiting a diagnosis. Perceptions of unease and disquiet elsewhere in those I care for. Mixed economic headwinds. The weight doesn’t disappear when I step away - And the nightly news adds more.

I force myself to remember: memory bends with time. The stories we tell ourselves shift- Excessive sentimentality for the past is not the framework I want to carry forward into my sixth decade. I see clearly now how remaining present—grounded in the moment—is a lifeline.

I will try to find peace on this journey in this time and in this place.