Almost Present

We decide what moments mean before they finish happening because uncertainty scares us more than disappointment.

We’re already scanning for loss. Already rehearsing disappointment. Already bracing for absence.

A text comes through and instead of letting it land, we immediately wonder when the next one will arrive.

We don’t enjoy the exchange. We audit it.

We don’t feel the warmth. We forecast the weather.

We’re never actually here.

We’re in the past, replaying what it reminded us of.

Or we’re in the future, imagining how it might end.

And somehow we call that awareness.

It’s not awareness. It’s preemptive self-protection.

We’re so busy managing the emotional aftershocks that we don’t let ourselves experience the impact. We won’t let the moment count unless it comes with a guarantee. And since nothing ever does, we live in a permanent state of “almost.”

Almost happy.

Almost safe.

Almost present.

We’ve confused vigilance with wisdom.

We’ve confused anticipation with connection.

The present moment doesn’t ask for analysis.

It doesn’t promise continuity.

It just shows up, quietly, and asks to be felt.

And we keep denying it because we’re afraid that if we let ourselves enjoy this one, we’ll feel stupid when it’s gone.

But the cost of that fear is living nowhere at all.

Not in what was.

Not in what will be.

Just hovering, half-available, waiting for permission to feel something fully.

The moment already happened.

It was real.

That should be enough. 💙