Admittedly, living as if there is only one year left to live has proven to be harder than I thought. I am still doing the day-to-day things that I’ve always done, that aren’t of the greatest importance, really. Except I know that these things would benefit my future years to come. Yes, years to come. If I were truly to be living as if I only have one year left, I probably would quit my job, cash out my retirement fund that I’ve been saving up, and just chill for the rest of the year and live out my years travelling with Dave, writing letters and wills, saying sorry to those I may have wronged, giving gratitude and love to those I was angry with. I would probably start getting pregnant right away so that I know I’m giving a beautiful gift back to this world that has been so good to me.

Living “one year” means to breathe life in as fully as possible everyday, to take risks that may not have been taken before, to smile more often and leave a wanted legacy. When I die, I don’t want to be remembered as merely a woman, or even a therapist. I want to be remembered for the intentions that I gave forth. I want to be remembered for the people I love and those who love me in return. I want to live on through their smiles. I want to be remembered for the lives I’ve affected.

It is to live intentionally, without regret, without fear. I am doing that more, but probably not as much as I would like to. Weeks get busy and I find myself already planning for the next day when my head hits the pillow. For the next year, my task is to sleep with grace, sleep with fulfillment. Sleep as if tomorrow will never come.

We were friends for a long time, and I feel it’s finally time to say goodbye. I pretend sometimes that I don’t remember you, or that I’m not mad over what happened. I pretend sometimes that I don’t see you, and that I don’t want you to see me. I pretend sometimes that I wasn’t hurt, that I’m in denial, and that I don’t need to recognize our friendship from way long past. Keeping all these emotions on my shoulders is too hard, especially since I’m starting to practice dying. I don’t want to leave these anvils of thoughts and feelings loaded while I’m walking. It keeps me from flying and floating.

We are okay. Even though we don’t talk anymore, I sense that you are okay. I sense that you are happy where you are, and some days you may not be, but I sense that generally, you are okay. You were a great friend while we were friends, and I am no longer angry with you. I am no longer angry with myself for letting you go. I’m feeling okay. Thank you for coming into my life, for giving me you for a short time. It was a blessing, and I am humbled by our friendship together.

I say goodbye, knowing that I had said hello. It is not a mean goodbye, nor is it an unwilling one, or one that is in denial. I say goodbye knowing that it is better to have met you and lost you, than to not have met you at all. Thank you.

Love,

Helen

This morning, I am taking some time for myself, doing whatever I want to do without feeling guilty. I walked around in my pajamas for 2 hours, fooling around with my laptop, visiting websites of friends, updating facebook. I took an extra long shower, took an extra long time getting dressed, look an extra long time brushing my hair, smiled geekily at myself in the mirror after I brushed my teeth, and I took an extra long time getting dressed.

My hair is still wet, the music is blasted on from Gwen Stefani’s latest album “Sweet Escape.” How appropriate for my frame of mind. I’m creating my own sweet escape this morning. No rushing around, no thinking I’m late, no running errands, no calling clients back, no panicking about court dates and overdue paperwork. I’m just okay, here, alone, by myself, enjoying the company that has always been here: my own.

If I only had one year to live, I would make some time to simply live, gracefully, peacefully, calmly, and quietly.

It’s definitely made me slow down. At first, I thought I was going to feel hurried, since I would only have a year left. I’m surprised to see that it’s done the opposite of exactly that.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about relationships. All the people I’ve met in the past… feeling sad that I would not be able to talk to them again, and learning to accept that as a “final goodbye,” so to speak. I’ve been thinking, even, about possibly getting back in touch with some of them, and “settling” things that haven’t been settled before.

Scary thought… really scary thought…

The idea is to live each day to the very fullest, to do what you want to do if you knew you only had one year to live, to come to terms with your death because that’s when you can truly live, to erase the notion of “I’ll get around to it” and to live as if you have nothing to lose except your life. We are all so vulnerable to death, and yet we pretend it doesn’t exist. I hear those who know they only have a short time to live tend to live the fullest, without regrets, without conditions, without hesitations.

If I had one year to live, what would I do? Would my priorities change? What would I no longer push on the sidelines? What would I do now that I have been holding off? Who would I want to seek contact with again? What would I change about myself, and what would remain the same? If I had one year to live, will I be okay with how I represent myself? Would I be happy with the way my life is? Would I live it as if I know this is it. This is the end. There is nothing to lose. There is everything to gain. What would I want my legacy to be?

If I had one year to live… what would I do? Well, I created a category in “rhythm” appropriate for this theme. This category (“One Year”) will be attached to entries where I write about how I am changing my life, and what I am doing without regret. It is a matter of doing, not just wanting.