The Water is Tomorrow and Tomorrow is the Day

Every day for the last year I’ve been telling myself that tomorrow’s the day. Tomorrow’s the day that my body will heal and this will finally end. Tomorrow’s the day where I can get my old life back. Tomorrow’s the day where a new life is possible. And when tomorrow comes, and I’m greeted by another round of pain, I force myself to squelch the negative thoughts and fears about the possibility this will never end, because that is too unbearable to consider. So I repeat to myself, tomorrow’s the day.

The other night at 2:30 in the morning, I was sitting in a chair to minimize the pain, which quite honestly felt like someone was searing the surface of my kidney with a clothing iron. The burning is so confusing because sometimes it’s an indication that something has set me back, and sometimes it means that I’ve taken another major step towards healing. During moments like these I end up talking to myself a lot, trying to keep myself calm, reassuring myself that tomorrow might be the day. Because who knows, maybe this burn is the big one and it could all be over after this. Tomorrow could be the day.

And what if it is? What am I going to do with it? We’ve all had battles, especially this last year with the covid pandemic. We’ve all had losses and fights, wounds and scars. Things that stood in the way of the full lives we envisioned for ourselves. But through it all, whether conscious of it or not, the thing that pulls us through is telling ourselves that “tomorrow could be the day.” Tomorrow could be the day when the shit stops. Tomorrow could be the day when you don’t have to think so much. Worry so much. Not have to do, do, do. Not have to manage, manage, manage. Tomorrow could be the day where you get to just laugh and enjoy a friend. A book. A good meal. A show. A run. A good night’s sleep. Tomorrow could be the day where it is all going to be alright. And if that happens, what are you going to do with it?

There are finish lines we cross every day and every week, and what a relief they are when we do. After a long work week, you know this feeling. Friday comes and you can’t wait to get a drink, kick up your feet, and let it all go. But the tough work week is a little finish line ‐ you’ve crossed bigger ones. Such as getting that job in the first place. Or maybe you’ve overcome an illness or an injury, or faced a difficult situation you didn’t think there was a way out of. But you did. You crossed that finish line and moved on to the next challenge. Life provides a never-ending supply of conflict, embarrassment, and mistakes, and what gets you through it all is the undying possibility of, well, possibility. That tomorrow can be the day where you can hit the big reset button and get another chance to do it better. To be better. To love better. To work smarter. To not take the day for granted. To not take anyone for granted. To be truer to yourself. To be the person you always hoped you could be. To pursue your dreams.

The world is said to be comprised of two types of people: those who see the glass as half full and those who see the glass as half empty. The glass half empty people spend a regrettable amount of time focusing on their past mistakes and the obstacles they faced, continuously mourning the “might have been.” They play out different scenarios in their head that could have improved the experience they just lived through, never resolving anything because this is an indulgence of fantasy.

Glass half full people look at the experiences of today, take what they can from it, and use it as a stepladder to better reach tomorrow. Because no matter what you’ve gone through, no matter how much you’ve lost or think you might have lost had life gone a little differently, nothing good comes from dwelling about the half of the glass that’s not there. It was never there. It’s empty air, intangible, indeterminate and impossible to prove. There is no way to determine that if things had gone a little better, a little easier, or if you did things differently, that you could have had a better life. Believing otherwise is a figment of your imagination that is costing you precious time to ponder.

Instead, ponder the water. The water is there. Drinkable. It offers nutrition that feeds your body and soul. It offers the reality of possibility instead of the impossibility of creating the never was. The water is what has happened and that which can still happen. You can touch it. You can see it. You can examine it. You can drink it. Drink it. The water is tomorrow and tomorrow is the day.