SUNDAY SEEDS OF THOUGHTS: One Day, Someone Will Miss This Version of You

someonewillmiss: Hey everybody. Happy Sunday. And welcome back to another episode of Sunday Seeds, a little piece of your Sunday to help you find your footing before the world starts asking everything of you again on Monday. I'm Dr. Carmella Maxwell, and you're listening to Rooted in Rising. Before we get started, I want to ask you to do me a little favor. If you've been listening to this podcast and something I've said has made you laugh, made you think, made you cry, Or maybe even made you sit in your car for a few extra minutes because you weren't quite ready to turn it off. I'd love for you to follow the show. Make sure you're subscribed or following on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, YouTube, or wherever you're listening. Leave a rating, leave a review, and share an episode with somebody who might need to hear it. Because this podcast isn't just about mental health, it's about being human. And I want us to keep building a space where we can talk about all the beautiful, uncomfortable, messy, and complicated things that come with that. Now, today's Sunday seat is going to be a little different. And I'm gonna ask you to really listen. Not while you're making a grocery list in your head. Not while you're thinking about the emails waiting for you tomorrow. Just listen. Because there's something I've been thinking about lately. Something that sounds a little sad at first, but I promise you, there's something beautiful on the other side of it. One day, someone is going to miss this version of you. And the crazy part, you might not even like this version of yourself very much right now. Let's talk about that. You know what's interesting about being human? We're always trying to become somebody else. Not necessarily a completely different person, but a better version of ourselves. A healthier version. A version with fewer problems, less stress, a cleaner house, a smaller waistline, a better job, a happier relationship. We spend so much of our lives trying to get to the next version that we forget we're actually living inside a version of ourselves right now. And this one counts too. I want you to think about the person you were five years ago. Really think about that person. What were you worried about? Who were you spending time with? What did your home look like? What did you think your life was going to be? Now here's the question that gets me. Wouldn't you give up almost anything to go back and tell that person that they were going to make it through some of the things they were so afraid of? Maybe not everything worked out the way that they wanted. Maybe some things fell completely apart. Maybe there were people they thought would be there forever who weren't around anymore. But they made it here to this Sunday, to this moment, to you. And I wonder how often we forget to appreciate the person who had to survive all of that to get us here. Because sometimes we're so busy criticizing who we are that we forget what it took to become this person. And while you're looking in the mirror, thinking about everything you need to change, somebody else might be looking at you and thinking about how grateful they are that you exist. Sit with that one for a second. And I want you to imagine something. Imagine you're standing in your childhood kitchen. Maybe it's the kitchen you grew up in. Maybe it's your grandmother's kitchen. Maybe it's somewhere you haven't been in twenty years. And there's somebody there. Somebody who used to be a part of your everyday life. They're doing something completely ordinary. Washing dishes, making coffee, stirring something on the stove. Maybe they're complaining about the electric bill. Maybe they're telling you to close the refrigerator because you're letting all the cold air out. And imagine, just for a moment, that you could stand in that kitchen again. Not to ask them some profound question, not to tell them everything that's happened since you've been gone. Just to hear them. Just to hear the sound of their voice doing something completely unremarkable. Maybe you'd even be happy to hear them fuss at you again. Isn't that something? The things that used to annoy us can become the very things we'd give anything to experience again. And here's what I keep coming back to. When those moments were happening, they didn't feel important. Nobody was standing there thinking, I need to remember this exact Tuesday at 4.17 in the afternoon. Nobody was taking notes about the way the kitchen smelled. Nobody realized that the sound of somebody opening a cabinet could become something they'd miss. It was just life. Just another afternoon. Just another conversation. Until one day, It wasn't. And that's what gets me. We spend so much time waiting for the big moments that we don't realize how much of our lives is happening in the little ones. And this is where I want to turn the conversation toward you. Because I think we sometimes forget something really important. You are somebody's ordinary moment, too. Somebody remembers a conversation with you that you've completely forgotten. Somebody remembers the day you made them laugh when they were having a terrible week. Somebody remembers you asking if they got home safely. Somebody remembers you showing up. Maybe you were tired. Maybe you were distracted. Maybe you thought you weren't doing anything particularly special. But to them you were. Think about the people in your life. Your children, if you have them, your friends, your coworkers, your siblings. The people who have known you for years and the people who have only known you for a few months. Do you realize that every one of those people has a different version of you living in their memory? To one person, you're the funniest person they've ever met. To another, you're the one who listened when nobody else did. To somebody, you're the person who always has snacks. That's me. To somebody else, you're the one who makes everything feel a little less scary. And you probably don't know half the things people remember about you. Isn't that wild? You're walking around trying to figure out whether you're enough, and there are people carrying little pieces of you around with them. Pieces you didn't even know you gave away. I think about that with children especially. Because as parents, so many of us are working around feeling like we're failing at something. We didn't cook dinner. We forgot the school farm. We were irritated in the car. We were tired when somebody wanted to tell us a very long story about something that happened at recess. And we feel guilty. We think we're supposed to be creating these beautiful, perfectly curated childhoods. The vacations, the birthday parties, the family photos where everybody is smiling and nobody is fighting. But you know what? I don't think the memories that stay with us are always the big ones. Sometimes it's the way somebody tucked the blanket around your feet. The sound of them laughing in another room. The way they called your name. The way they checked on you when you were sick. The way they made you feel like there was somebody in the world who would come if you needed them. And maybe that's the part we need to remember. You don't have to be perfect to be unforgettable. You don't have to get everything right to be deeply loved. You can be tired. You can be overwhelmed. You can have a sink full of dishes and laundry sitting in the dryer for three days. Guilty. You can be figuring things out. And still be somebody's favorite place to land. Now I want to acknowledge something. For some of you, this episode is probably bringing up somebody you miss. And I understand that. Because grief has a funny way of making ordinary things extraordinary. You can go through an entire day feeling perfectly fine, and then you hear a song, or you smell something. Or somebody says a phrase in a particular way, and suddenly you're standing in a memory you didn't know was waiting for you. Sometimes it's not even sadness at first. Sometimes you smile, sometimes you laugh. And then you remember that you can't call that person to tell them what just happened. And that's when it hits. Not because you've forgotten they're gone, but because for just a second, Your heart went somewhere your life couldn't follow. And I think there's something important to understand about that. We don't always grieve the big milestones. Sometimes we grieve the person who would have cared about all the smallest ones. The person you could call to tell them you found a really good parking spot. The person who would have wanted to know what you made for dinner. The person who would have laughed at something nobody else thought was funny. Sometimes what we miss most isn't having someone there for the extraordinary parts of life. It's having somebody who thought our ordinary life was worth hearing about. And if you're carrying that kind of grief today, I want you to know that you don't have to turn it into a lesson. You don't have to find a silver lining in someone's absence. You can simply miss them. You can be grateful for what you had and still be angry that you don't have more of it. Those feelings can exist together. And as you're listening, maybe there's a person whose voice you wish you could hear one more time. If there is, I hope you give yourself a moment today to remember something small about them. Not necessarily the day you lost them. Not their illness. Not the difficult conversations. Just something ordinary. Something that made them who they are. Because a whole person existed before they became somebody we grieved. And they deserve to be remembered for the way they lived, not only for the pain of their absence. there's another thing I've been thinking about. Have you ever gone through old pictures of yourself and you come across one from five or ten years ago? Maybe at that time you hated that picture. You thought you looked too heavy, too skinny, too tired. You didn't like your hair. You didn't like your smile. And You remember being self-conscious about something. And now you look at that same picture and think, my God, I looked beautiful. Or maybe it's not even about how you looked. Maybe you look at yourself and realize how young you were, how much you didn't know, how many things you were about to experience. And suddenly you feel a little tenderness towards that person in the photograph. You want to tell them to stop being so hard on themselves. You want to tell them to get in the picture, to wear the dress, take the trip, to laugh with their whole mouth open. And I want you to consider this. What if the version of you that you're criticizing today is somebody you're going to miss 10 years from now? What if 10 years from now? You're going to look back at pictures of yourself from this very Sunday and wish you had been a little kinder to that person. What if you're going to miss the energy you have now? The people around your table, the sound of your children in the next room, the freedom you have, even the ridiculous little routines you complain about. I don't say that to make you afraid of time passing. I say it because I don't want you to look back on this season and realize you spent the whole thing waiting to become s worthy of enjoying it. Because this is your life, not the rehearsal, not the waiting room, not the rough draft that only matters once everything is fixed. This is it. And there's beauty here too. Even if there's pain here, even if there's uncertainty. Even if the version of you that exists today is still trying to figure out how to be happy again. I think one of the saddest things we do to ourselves is postpone our own participation in life. We say things like, When I lose the weight, I'll take the pictures. When I get the promotion, I'll celebrate. When I find somebody who loves me, I'll feel complete. When the kids get older, I'll enjoy myself. When I have more money, I'll finally start living. And don't get me wrong, there is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting more. I want more things for myself too. I have goals. I have ambitions. I have dreams that I'm still working toward. But I also wonder how many of us have confused working toward a better life with refusing to acknowledge the life we already have. Because here's the thing: there is always going to be something else. Another responsibility, another bill, another milestone, another version of yourself that you think you need to become. And if you make happiness dependent on everything being finished, you're gonna be waiting a very long time, maybe forever. And I don't want that for you. I certainly don't want that for me either. I want us to be able to look at our lives with all the unfinished pieces and say, there's still something here worth loving. Not because everything is good, not because we should pretend the difficult things don't matter. But because our lives deserve more than being measured by what hasn't happened yet. You are allowed to experience joy while you're still healing. You are allowed to laugh even when you have real problems. You are allowed to feel beautiful before you change anything about yourself. And you are allowed to be loved while you're still figuring out who you're becoming. Let me give you something to think about as we move into this week. Imagine someone you love calls you tomorrow and you're busy. You're rushing out the door, your coffee's getting cold, you've got 17 things on your mind, and the last thing you want to do is have another conversation. So you look at the phone and you think, I'll call them later. I'm guilty of this. Now I'm not about to tell you that you have to answer every phone call because something terrible might happen. That's not fair. And it's not how I want us to live. You are allowed to be busy. You're allowed to have boundaries, and you're absolutely allowed to call somebody back. But I do want you to think about what happens when later becomes the way we approach everyone we love. Later, I'll tell them I appreciate them. Later, I'll ask them how they're really doing. Later. I'll tell my friend how proud I am of them. Later, I'll sit down with my child and listen to the whole story. Later, I'll take a picture with my mother. Later I'll stop rushing. Later I'll enjoy this. And sometimes later comes. But sometimes life changes before we get there. And even when nothing tragic happens, we can lose years to the assumption that connection can always wait. So here's what I want you to do differently. Not everything. Just one thing. This week, I want you to be a little more deliberate about letting people know they matter. Not through some elaborate social media post. Not because it's their birthday. Not because somebody is sick. Just because they're here. Send the message. Ask the question. Give the compliment you've been keeping to yourself. Tell somebody what you love about them. while they're actually around to hear it. And if somebody has made your ordinary life a little more beautiful, let them know. Because I think the world would be a very different place if we stopped saving all of our kindest words for farewell speeches. But before I finish, I want to bring this back to you. Because I don't want you to listen to this episode and think your only assignment is to go appreciate everybody else. No. You deserve some of that tenderness too. I want you to imagine that someone who loves you deeply is describing you to somebody who has never met you. Not your job title, not your degrees, not how much money you make, not your accomplishments. Just You. Maybe they talk about your ridiculous laugh. The way you get excited when you're telling a story. How you sing when you think nobody's listening? How you remember things about people. Maybe they'd say you're stubborn. Maybe they'd say you talk too much. Maybe they'd say you can be a little dramatic. And maybe they'd say all of it with a smile because those are the things that make you You. And I wonder, when was the last time you allowed yourself to be loved without first presenting a list of your accomplishments? When was the last time you believed you could be important to someone simply because of who you are? Not what you provide. Not how useful you are. Not what you can fix. Just you. Because you are more than the things you manage. You're more than people who need you. You're more than your productivity. And someday, when people tell stories about you, I promise you, not all those stories are going to be about how many emails you answered or how clean you kept your house. They're going to remember what it felt like to be around you. And that's worth something. That's worth a lot. So as we get ready for another Monday, I want you to carry three simple ideas with you. First, stop treating your present life like it's something you have to get through before your real life begins. Second, let people know they're loved in the ordinary moments. Don't wait for the big occasion. Some of the most meaningful words we ever hear are the ones we weren't expecting. And third, give yourself some credit for being here. You've been through things. You've lost things. You've learned things the hard way. You've probably made some decisions you'd do differently if you had the chance. Me too. But you're still here. And the person you are today deserves some kindness. I want you to remember this. One day, someone is going to miss the way you laugh. Someone is going to miss your voice. The way you tell the same story over and over. Someone is going to miss your hugs, your terrible jokes, your random phone calls. And the way you somehow always knew what to say. Someone is going to look at a photograph of you and wish they could step inside it just for one more afternoon. And that thought might make us a little sad. But I want you to hear the beautiful part. You're here now. Your story is being written. There are conversations you haven't had yet. There are people you haven't met. There are ordinary afternoons ahead of you that might become somebody's most treasured memories. And you don't have to become somebody extraordinary to make those moments matter. You just have to be present enough to live them. So tomorrow morning, when the alarm goes off and the world starts asking things of you again, I want you to remember something. You are not just somebody trying to make it through another week. You are a person living a life that matters. Even in the mundane, even in the unfinished, even in the mess. And when you get a chance this week, take the picture. Sit a little longer. Laugh a little louder. Tell somebody you love them. And for goodness sake, give yourself permission to enjoy a little bit of your life before it's all figured out. Because one day, you might look back on this exact season and realize. These were some of the days you wished you could have back. And I hope when you do, you remember that you were actually there for them, not just surviving them, but living them. If today's episode made you think of someone, send it to them. Maybe it's somebody you haven't talked to in a while. Maybe it's somebody you talk to every day. Or maybe this is one you just needed to hear for yourself. I'd love for you to leave a review and tell me what this episode brought up for you. Because I genuinely believe these conversations matter. And as always, remember, stay rooted in who you are, keep rising into who you're becoming. Have a beautiful Sunday and an even more meaningful week ahead. Take care.