Project Life Success
Positive Thinking

My Biggest Fear

I have this terror, almost constantly, that I am running out of time.

Even when I am talking to someone I often find my fingers are drumming, anxiously. It’s as though they are counting down the fragments of seconds to when it is all going to end.

It is going to end, of course, we are all due to die at some point, but I mean I worry that it is going to end long before I am ready for it to.

I am incredibly aware of how late I started on this journey, and yet I don’t honestly think I was ready for this until, well, until I was ready.

The last four and a half decades have taken forever and no time at all.

I might have less than that left. And I feel like I’m only really starting.

Life did definitely begin at forty for me – at least, this part of my life only began then. I feel like I was playing at it before.

But many of our clients these days are older, and although both Baldy and I really enjoy spending time with older people, it does make you ever more aware of your own mortality.

There is so much I want to do, what if I don’t get it all done?

I do not have a minute to waste, and then I find myself at the bottom of a Facebook hole I fell into 45 minutes earlier. I take 25 minutes to update Instagram, adding the likes and comments and interacting with those who have connected to me. I now manage five Twitter accounts – one for each business, my own and a further anonymous account. And then there are WhatsApp groups! (to be fair I’m only in a couple, but I know people who say they have a dozen or so going on). To keep up to date across all of those and not lose months of each year staring at my phone is a huge challenge.

I’ve been really bad at vlogging recently. Partly because it does take up so much time, and I got worried that I was putting the time into that when I should be focusing on the family business, the one that will hopefully make everything else possible.

Again, it’s all time. Time I don’t have to waste. Time none of us can afford to waste.

There are only 52 Sundays in every year and yet I cannot hand on heart tell you that today I made the most of this one, the latest one I will never ever get back.

My nails are tapping anxiously on my teeth as I type and I can feel my heart beating faster than normal. Tick, tick, ticking away…




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