The Unfulfilled Bucket List
Trying to find the best Resolution
On December 23rd, 1999, my mother gave birth to a small, blonde babe who did nothing but cry through all hours of the night. That babe was me, the Christmas baby as most of my family would describe. Although it seemed that all the best holidays were packed into one, I hadn't shown any interest in celebrating my birthday or Christmas. No, my favorite holiday to celebrate was New Year’s Eve. If you asked me why, I wouldn't be able to give you a simple, definitive answer. It wasn't the fireworks that were displayed every year like clockwork. It wasn't the excuse to drink until the sun came up and it wasn’t that stupid, midnight kiss that everyone raved about. One of the reasons why I loved New Year’s Eve was, for the metaphor. The idea of a new beginning and the start of something new. The process of making a wish and setting goals for yourself to accomplish for the year to come. I loved reflecting and I adored the feeling of hope that accompanied this day.
With the pandemic that has raged across the world and the time we have all had on our own, I have pushed myself to analyze my past resolutions. Every year on this day, I have written down a bucket list of sorts that I hoped I would complete by the end of twelve months. There had been many things that I had wished to accomplish from writing a book, participating in a theatre production, learning to play the guitar or make ceramics- I even had several adrenaline sports I wanted to experience and restaurants to visit. Don’t even get me started on the countries I wanted to travel to. The list would fill up pages upon pages of my journal and now that I have time for myself, I can see that this list was written out of fear.
We always think that we're going to have more time with the people we love. More Christmas's. More Birthdays. More days for arguing and just simply, more memories and time. Although I had watched plenty of films that would emphasize the importance of seizing the day, I never quite understood what they meant until I lost my stepfather. The man who had raised me like his own and the man that I always knew I could count on despite his flaws. He hadn't even reached his fortieth birthday. He was only the first death that completely stumped me. The second was a neighborhood friend who took his life in his parents shed and the third was my sister’s best friend- only nineteen and passing away from her long fight with cancer. The realization that we never really know how much time we have, sent me spiraling with a crippling anxiety.
The rantings of my inner voice would appear at any given moment, what would happen if I died tomorrow? From an illness, motor collision or some freak accident? How would I say I left this world? What did I do with my life? These big, existential questions haunted me every moment of every day after I buried my loved one. So, I wrote the list. A list that only got longer every New Years Eve. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t have a bucket list. I can tell you that having something to aspire to and goals to direct you, is good. However, it should only be effective in small moderations and without a timeframe. Why? Because, if you struggle with your mental illness as I do, when it comes to the end of that year, and you haven’t completed that list – you feel like a failure. The inner bully and inner critic come out to play, keeping you up at night as you revisit moments you can only wish you had done differently. The pressure to do a life worth of experiences within a short amount of time is too much for anyone. With that being said, this year I hope to change my resolution and aim for something a little gentler and a little more kind.
You are not alone! Having been consumed with my bucket list and the need to live several experiences, I failed to recognize the giant ass hole living in my chest. I can’t just fill it with solo adventures and photographs of places I’ve been. I need to acknowledge the fact that most days, I feel extremely alone and isolated in my own little world. The biggest cause to this self-diagnosis is the wall that I have built around my heart and my mind, a place of comfort that has allowed me to remain detached from other people. This sense of loneliness has fed my depression and played a large role in my capability to get a goods night rest. The best life to live is the one that you can share with other people. So, starting next year, I want to reconcile with my loved ones and allow myself to show up for me. Talking has never really been my strong suit and I know the only other way that I can express myself to others and even my own consciousness, is through the written word. So, next year I want to extend on my writing abilities and talk about the traumas that I have quenched with a bucket list.
I don't want to set a specific goal with the fear of disappointment, all I can wish for is a year where I can challenge my creativity in whatever theme that may present (writing, drawing, painting, collage, journaling), where I can grow spiritually and emotionally. A year that will turn into two, then a lifetime of resolutions.
About the Creator
Sammy
Australian born and raised and on the verge of turning Twenty-Two, I write when I am at my most vulnerable. Using fiction to heal and the truth to relieve, I'm navigating my time and finding myself through the written word.
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“He Kept Going When No One Was Watching — And That Changed Everything”
No one ever noticed the days he almost gave up. There were no messages asking if he was okay. No one wondered why he became quieter. No one asked how much effort it took just to keep going. To the world, he was just another ordinary man. His name was Ayaan. Ayaan’s life didn’t collapse in one dramatic moment. It slowly faded. Missed opportunities. Rejected ideas. Silent disappointments. Every failure was small, but together they became heavy. He had dreams once. Big ones. Dreams that kept him awake at night, imagining a future where his hard work would finally matter. But over time, those dreams began to feel unrealistic—almost embarrassing. People around him seemed to move forward effortlessly. They celebrated promotions, achievements, and milestones. Ayaan watched from the side, smiling politely while feeling invisible. At work, his efforts were ignored. Among friends, his voice faded. At home, expectations weighed heavily on him. Slowly, a dangerous thought settled into his mind: “Maybe I’m not good enough.” That thought followed him everywhere. It followed him on crowded buses. It followed him into sleepless nights. It followed him every time he tried again and failed. One night, after scrolling through endless success stories online, Ayaan closed his phone and stared at the dark ceiling. His chest felt tight, not because of pain—but because of exhaustion. He whispered quietly, “How long do I keep trying?” There was no answer. But that night, Ayaan made a decision—not a loud one, not a confident one. A tired decision. He decided to keep going, even if nothing changed. The next morning felt the same. The same routine. The same doubts. The same fear of wasting his life. But Ayaan showed up anyway. He worked when no one praised him. He studied when no one guided him. He practiced when no one believed in him. Some days, motivation disappeared completely. On those days, discipline took over. He reminded himself: “I don’t need applause. I need progress.” Weeks passed. Nothing dramatic happened. No sudden success. No recognition. No miracle. But something subtle began to shift. Ayaan became calmer under pressure. He learned to sit with discomfort instead of running from it. He stopped comparing his journey to others. The silence that once scared him now became his training ground. Months later, a serious problem appeared at his workplace. It was complicated, risky, and easy to blame on someone else. Most people avoided it. Some pretended it wasn’t their responsibility. Ayaan didn’t announce himself. He didn’t seek attention. He simply started working. Late nights. Mistakes. Corrections. Learning. There were moments he wanted to quit. Moments when fear whispered, “You’re not ready.” But he answered back, “I’ll learn.” Slowly, the problem began to disappear. Not perfectly—but steadily. People noticed, quietly. One afternoon, his manager called him into the office. Ayaan expected criticism. Instead, he heard a question that stunned him: “Where did you learn all this?” Ayaan paused. How could he explain years of silent effort? How could he explain working when no one cared? He simply replied, “I kept going.” That moment didn’t change his life overnight. He didn’t become famous. He didn’t suddenly become successful. But it changed something far more important. His belief in himself. For the first time, Ayaan understood that life doesn’t always reward effort immediately. Sometimes, it watches. It watches who continues without praise. Who improves without recognition. Who grows in silence. Years later, Ayaan looked back at the version of himself who almost quit. The man who felt invisible. The man who thought no one was watching. And he smiled. Because he finally understood the truth: Life was always watching. Not to judge. Not to rush. But to see if he would keep going when it was hardest. The world doesn’t reward those who only work when they’re seen. It rewards those who build strength in silence. And sometimes, the moment that changes everything doesn’t come with applause. It comes quietly. After patience. After effort. After consistency. That is when everything finally begins to change. Final Message Keep going—even when no one is watching. Especially then.
By Inayat khan3 days ago in Motivation
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