Minutes From Your Moment
1.2 seconds.
That’s all that was left on the clock last night when the Knicks won the game.
They were down by as much as 29 points. 15 baskets. And I know I am not alone when I say, it looked completely hopeless. The energy was heavy, and honestly, it felt like the game was over by halftime.
1.2 seconds. It still just blows my mind.
As I sat there staring at the TV, a thought hit me so hard, and it’s something I need to keep permanently ingrained in my brain moving forward:
How many times in life have I thrown in the towel far earlier than 1.2 seconds?
We all do it, don’t we? We get to a point where we look around and just decide, “It’s just not going to get better.” And let’s be honest, as we get older, it’s so easy to let that heavy feeling take over. Sometimes you don’t feel wiser or stronger; you just feel like you’re getting older. You start watching the clock, and this quiet, terrifying doubt creeps in, telling you that your dreams are dying, that the things you want to do are impossible, and that your time has passed.
I know so many of you reading this right now are standing right at that edge. You are ready to throw in the towel because your marriage or your relationship is ending, and you’re staring at an empty house. You’re ready to quit because you just lost someone incredibly close to you, and the grief is too heavy to carry. Maybe your job is over, you can’t pay the bills, and you’re terrified to even look at your bank account. Or maybe it’s the quiet, exhausting battles like you can’t seem to get through to your children, you’re constantly arguing with a relative, you feel like you’re being taken advantage of at every turn, or you’re trapped in an abusive situation and feel completely powerless. All of these things pile up until you just want to stop trying.
I get it. Because I’ve had my share of massive ups and downs. I lost my mom when she was 46 to breast cancer. The only parent I ever knew (at that point). My first husband cheated and left me for another woman. And I went through the gut-wrenching pain of losing and burying my baby girl Halle at 10 days old. There were so many times I sat in the darkness due to life circumstances and other times just batting the demons in my own mind and genuinely believing my life was over.
Most recently, I’ve had moments building this blog where that exact heavy voice got in my head. I’ve sat here asking myself, “Theresa, what are you doing? You are 53 years old. It’s too late. Is anyone even listening?”
I needed that game last night. I needed that 1.2-second reminder desperately. Last night was a massive wake-up call straight from the universe to all of us. It reminded me that I cannot give up on this blog, and I cannot give up on myself. I have to keep going. Our dreams are not dying. What we want to do is not impossible.
Because I know from my own personal experience, just when I thought the worst had won, the universe stepped in and said, “No way. The game isn’t over yet.” Last night reminded me of that.
None of us ever know what is waiting around the very next corner. The universe specializes in those last-minute turnarounds, but the thing is that we have to stay on the court to see them.
Think about it. 1.2 seconds.
That is quicker than a blink.
It’s quicker than a heartbeat.
It’s quicker than almost anything in the world.
If the universe can rewrite a whole destiny in a fraction of a moment, then you are never truly stuck. You are never truly out of time. Just when you think you are at your absolute lowest, remember how fast the tides can turn.
So, if you’re tempted to throw in the towel today because you think you’re too far behind, or because you’ve convinced yourself it’s too late to change your story, don’t walk away.
There is still time on the clock. Take a breath and get back in the game.
Remember, your 1.2-seconds could be right around the corner too.