Never did get my writing time in yesterday. Isn’t that a shame? I was all ready for it. All hyped up about it. Then life intervened and instead of writing I found myself out in the city for most of the afternoon. Didn’t get home before 4 p.m., and then there was a 45 minute catch up on all the cymbal and high hat hits my brother moved 1/100 of a second in his new material and please won’t you listen to it because it’s so much better.
As a perpetual people pleaser, I find that often happens to me: the ‘time’ for my stuff gets shoved aside due to circumstance. Other people seem to be able to say ‘this is a priority for me, I’m doing it’. I say ‘this is selfish work; I can put it off for another hour or day or week’. Of course I mind. Of course I have a moment of ‘damn it!’ every single time it happens. And of course I bend in my wishes; it’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done.
Yesterday I spoke up. Calmly. No blame, no ‘I’m trying to WORK here!’ or other nasty comment to my over-excited brother. I said ‘Okay, I’ll do this. But understand I want to get back to my own work this weekend. I want time to write, and I want time for music. My music.’ I put my toe in the sand and drew a line: this far, and no further.
The first thing I faced when I came out this morning was a cupboard that’s looking pretty empty. The coffee supplies are low again (no, no, NO! MUST have coffee in the house) and there is NOTHING for dinner. So what was my first thought? Yep. I’ll have to do the shopping today. No I won’t! I love my brother, but I’ve indulged his desire to keep working ad infinitum at this point. HE can do the shopping. HE can give up some time on his music. I’m doing my thing today. If that means come 5 p.m. my bro suddenly realizes there’s nothing to eat in the house because no, he didn’t get his butt downstairs to do that one thing out of the house today, then so be it. I like the pizza we get delivered. Got no problem with that. But I’m getting further on my work today, come hell or high water.
The yoke of responsible smoking is falling from my shoulders, as well. Oh, I’ll still mark down every time I fire up. Hell, I’m going above and beyond right now; since my last appointment was blown off, I’ve now run out of room on the calendar Heike gave me to monitor my smoking so I’m keeping track independently on a plain piece of paper. But I am DONE with pushing myself on quitting. That is not my goal, was NEVER my goal, and I’m just getting turned around and mixed up by having it so in my fucking face. My goal is movement. Progress. Stop sitting around being stuck somewhere when I was 5 or 12 and live my life as it is NOW. Gain confidence. Communicate with others better. Learn how to be happy. Quitting smoking is and always WAS Heike’s goal. I am tired of fulfilling other people’s expectations of me.
*chuckle* I can’t help but think I’ve made excellent progress so far. None of these lessons were probably cooked up or scheduled, but do you see what I’ve done? I’m standing up for myself faster and with greater clarity than I’ve ever done before. First I wouldn’t take any more morning appointments with Heike. Then I decided I had to start fitting time in for my projects. Now I’ve said no more and decided Heike needs to go. And I’m not looking for time for me, I’m making time for me. In my book, all of that IS progress. Damned GOOD progress, too.
My brother said the other day that he only wished I would have taken his advice and given Heike the boot sooner. Not. dancing. to your. tune. And I told him that.
Today and tomorrow are scheduled to rain, rain, rain. Perfect. Nothing but buying my lotto card today to make me feel like going out in it. It’s all inside, in the gloom with my colored lights on. The house is still clean from last weekend’s superwoman fly through so I don’t even have any pressure to pick up dust bunnies. It’s just me and my equipment. Goddess, please let the neighbors go on holiday this weekend! (And as I write this there is a profound stillness in the house; not a sound but the wind outside.)
…My lotto ticket might not get bought today….
For the record, I swam yesterday. Got in the pool and slinked by the kids splashing on the floatation mattress. Eased by the other non-drowners. Spent 5 minutes at the end of my swim acting the fish: I flipped around, let myself sink to the bottom a few times just for fun, paddled a bit, tread some water, and dove like a dolphin. Why not? That’s all anyone else was doing. And little me came out and shouted Yes, you silly fool! This is what a pool was MADE for! Chalk one up for free swim time.
Today I will not venture out to see George; already the weather is too much. But I’ve visited often this last week due to the freezing temps. Another duck is trying to imitate George and take the bread from my hand but sadly, he is only Not-George (He has yet to present a name to me, despite my trying several out in my head. Nothing fits). *shakes head* George has a sense of humor about the whole thing. Don’t ask me how I know this. I just do. I also found something else out: when I walk away from the pack, I can’t pick George out. It’s only when George looks at me that I recognize him. That’s how unique that look is; it defines George for me. You can’t tell me there isn’t a soul in there. That’s what I see when he looks at me. Not a duck, not a mindless animal. There is someone THERE. And call me crazy (I’m pretty used to it), but somehow there’s a connection between George and my therapy and my work and LIFE.
Times like this and I feel small. Caught up in something far bigger than myself. But this is not a small and scared me, this is a small me given a chance to do things differently. I can see that, too.
And the more progress I make, the closer George gets to me. He’s now literally on my foot half the time.
🙂 I love the symmetry in my life.