I was thinking today about how strange it is that we spend approximately 90% of our lives looking for things we personally put somewhere.
Keys. Glasses. Phone. The phone we are currently holding while looking for the phone.
And then there are the things we lose emotionally.
Our patience. Our ambition. Our ability to care what someone thinks. The name of the person we just met three seconds ago.
Some things eventually come back.
Some things should stay lost.
Which got me thinking about how much of adulthood is basically deciding what deserves to be found again.
An old friendship?
Maybe.
Your dignity after sending a text you immediately regretted?
Probably not.
The desire to impress people who don’t actually care about you?
Absolutely leave that shit in the lost-and-found.
And somewhere along the way, I think we become less interested in finding everything and more interested in deciding what is actually worth looking for.
Peace.
A good laugh.
People who make you feel like yourself.
The remote.
Because honestly, I can replace almost anything.
But I am not buying another remote.
Categories: Culture, identity, Leadership, mental health, Psychology
psychologistmimi 
My husband spends an inordinate amount of time looking for stuff he’s misplaced or lost.
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I treasure – and want to keep – readers of my fiction.
But, honestly, how often can I expect them to re-read it? Only once a year for the biggest fans. Most people will read Pride’s Children: PURGATORY at most once. And I’m good with that.
After that, the family and friends I know IN PERSON. There are too many of the digital kind to keep track. Bloggers I thought I had a rapport with disappear from the internet without as much as a final word.
I love the complexity and fullness of the world, but can’t keep up with it – you, included. I am grateful for your writing, but am only one out of the huge number who must follow your blog.
It’s bittersweet, but that’s what we have.
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