Remember to live in the present. by Jocelyn

Remember to live in the present. by Jocelyn - July 2025 Scholarship Essay

“Be patient, take your time, enjoy what you have, and be more present!” I say as I peer down onto my twelve year-old body. She’s meticulously sketching away in her notes, barely paying attention, barely noticing what’s going on around her. In her room alone, surrounded by all her drawings, stuffed animals, and books. This is where she’s the most content, the most stable.

Looking at her now I know that this introvertedness will only last a couple more years before she inevitably breaks out of that shell, but part of me always wonders what would’ve happened if I was just more present sooner. If I just enjoyed and appreciated what I was given. The question, “what piece of advice would you tell your past self and why?” is one that we’re all familiar with. I’m no stranger to knowing what many of my friends would say to themselves if given the chance. They often treat it as an easy restart button, something that can save them from pain, loss, or just silly embarrassment that they still cling to three years later. But really where would you be now if you could just restart? Who would you be? I don’t wish to change the person I’ve become. My life is something I’ve quite enjoyed so far. Even the mistakes and the heartache, the pain, they’ve all shaped me into the per–

“But I just want this to end already!” My fourteen year-old self cries out as she’s bundled up on the floor, tears streaming down her face complete with the salty taste of heartbreak. I sit beside her and lean my head against the wall, remembering what this felt like. It was the first of many that would follow me for the next two years. The heartbreaks hurt, yes, painfully so, but within all that anguish, that tearing apart, I was being molded into a better version of myself. A more prepared, less naive, less fragile version of myself.

“What if I had just been able to tell myself sooner about my tumor? Where would I be now” I thought to myself in the ICU hospital bed. IVs strung to my body, tubes flowing from my back, lights flickering in the hallway. “Would that have changed this outcome?” I look down at my legs, frozen, unmoving, paralyzed. Laying in that bed in the same position for hours a day I had many hours at my disposal to think to myself, “Could I have stopped this? Prepared myself somehow?” Ultimately I came to the conclusion of, no. Life doesn’t have a restart button, a rewind, a pause. Even if it did, I would still be here, inevitably I would always end up in a hospital bed. The tumor had been growing since I was around eight, I was now sixteen. Hitting rewind that far back would’ve changed so much, too much.

So, now I think back. What would I say? A warning? A reminder? Advice? What advice? “Be patient, take your time, enjoy what you have, and be more present!” Is what I would say. Because ultimately the terrible will still find you, the heartache will still break you, the pain will still destroy you, but it doesn’t have to conquer you. So be present in what you have, whether it be terrible or wonderful. Time has always been fleeting, there is no rewind, there is no restart, there is only now, the present, and it is something to cherish. Be patient and remember that nothing is eternal in this world, meaning the pain will eventually cease along with the joy. Take your time as you traverse this life because you deserve to cherish what you have been given and live it fully by taking the time to enjoy its gifts. Enjoy what you have. Enjoy what you’ve learned, the memories, the lessons, the losses, and the wins. Everything can and will teach you, it’s your choice to use it to your advantage, to take it in completely. Again be present. Hold the time you have in the palms of your hand, hold your anger and frustration, hold your joy and laughter, hold your friends and family, hold your love and loss, hold it all closely. That is what makes life all the more beautiful, realizing that it doesn’t last, realizing that you must be aware of that and to hold on as tightly as you can before you inevitably cease to be able to. That is the advice I would give, so that maybe then my memories would be a little brighter, and my heart a little fuller; but there is no rewind, there is no restart, there is no pause, there is only now.