If You’re the One Who Holds It All Together
A woman wanted to figure out what made her happy. She started with lists—things she thought she would want to do. Go to concerts. See friends. Do something useful. But when she did those things, she didn’t feel the way she expected. She didn’t know what she wanted out of life.
So, she tried something else. She journaled her thoughts, feelings, and what lifted her or left her empty. She did this on and off for a year, paying attention to what made her feel good.
After the year, she realized something unexpected. The happy moments weren’t the ones on the list. They were the in-between moments, the ones between the plans. Sipping morning coffee while watching the sunrise. Listening to the wind in the trees while walking in the woods. Sitting on the deck. Feeding the birds and watching them eat. She had skipped past them because she thought they didn’t matter, that they were too small. But they were the ones that stayed in her memories.
So she stopped chasing what looked good on paper. She started watching, listening, and letting herself feel what was real. She didn’t find one big answer. But she found her way in life.
That woman was Joanna Field. She was in her late twenties when she wrote A Life of One’s Own in 1934. Her story resonates because I recognized myself in it much later in life. It took Joanna only a year to notice what mattered–it took me decades.
I was busy keeping life from falling apart. Does that sound like you? The one who holds it all together—meals, money, memories?
My to-do lists ran my life. I didn’t want anything to fall apart. My days were full—task lists, deadlines, and responsibilities that never ended. I tried to keep things steady daily, making sure I could handle whatever was coming next.
I’ll be happy if I:
- Plan and prepare healthy meals, so I don’t lose energy or get sick.
- Plan my child’s birthday party, so I can feel like a good mother.
- Learn about money, so I don’t lose my freedom when I retire.
- Show family and friends I care, so I don’t lose connection.
Never mind, I was also running a business that took focus, time, and endless amounts of energy.
I’m learning to slow down—it’s a work in progress.
Many people live this way, managing daily details. They don’t want to control everything; they just want to protect their futures and families. It’s a strange form of long-term care. Often invisible and mostly exhausting. But rooted in love and survival.
I still start packing a week early, check things twice, sometimes three times. I don’t rush like I used to, but the feeling is still there inside my head. That old sense that something might fall through if I’m not on top of it. It’s hard to shake when you’ve lived that way for most of your life.
The lyric “Ah, but I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now.” from Bob Dylan’s song “My Back Pages,” became my back pages—the older version of me.
My older self was obsessed with productivity and getting it all done. I learned to let go of the pressure, the lists, the need to prove I could do it all. Dylan wrote the words when he realized he used to think he knew everything. Then he saw how little he really knew. He loosened up, embraced uncertainty. Then he felt younger.
That line stays with me. Back then, I thought I had to hold everything together. I was serious, determined, and always on alert. I planned ahead, took on too much, and didn’t know how to let go.
And what might Dylan think of Joanna Field? He might say, Yeah, she saw the trap too, unlearned the noise. She walked out the side door, leaving the plans, the pressure, the push to matter, behind. She got younger, same as me.
Looking back, here’s what I’d tell my younger self:
- The To-Do List Trap. Split your list, “must-do” and “can-wait.” Do fewer things better. Don’t confuse useful with busy.
- Prepare Without Pressure. Prep early to stay calm. Trust it’s enough.
- Stay Connected. Reach out now and then—a short note, a kind word. No pressure. Small care, over time, builds lasting bonds.
I also try to do these things to help me stay focused on what matters. It’s impossible to clear your schedule—but you can shift your focus. Here is what I try to do:
- Let Go of One Thing. Cross one thing off your To-Do List. See if you can keep from doing it. That’s how you make room for things that matter more.
- Keep the Main Thing Visible. Stephen Covey is famous for, “The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.” Write it down. Put it where you’ll see it. This teaches you to know what matters most and protect it from distraction.
I used to be older in all the wrong ways—tense, overprepared, stretched too thin. Like Dyan, I now try to be younger where it counts—more open, present, and human.
Live to Matter
Slowing down showed me something. The big stuff fades. The small stuff stays. Not the plans, not the titles. Just who you are. I saw it clearly at my husband’s funeral. They didn’t talk about what he did—electrical contractor, served as vice president in his national organization, and was inducted into the academy, the highest honor a contractor can receive.
Instead, they talked about who he was. Calm under pressure, always rewarded good service with big tips, played SantaPa for the holidays. A man who listened more than he spoke. Who showed up when you needed help.
It reminded me that people don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care. That was him. That’s what lingers.
I used to think I had to be ready for everything. Urgency kept me sharp and helped me get things done. But now I see it’s a habit. The world doesn’t fall apart when I pause. It keeps going.
I thought leaving a legacy was only for people who did big, important things. Now I think it’s made of small things. The way you listen. The way you show up. The things that seem like nothing—until they’re gone.
Joanna Field figured this out early. She stopped chasing happiness as if it were something to earn from going places and doing things. She paid attention to the in-between moments. She noticed her life instead of trying to solve it.
My going and doing, as Dylan said, “deceived me into thinking I had something to protect.” But, in the end, it’s not what we’ve done but who we’ve been. That’s the story that lasts.