Life Happens
I have been laboring under a misapprehension. I carry with me a myth, the myth of the "normal day". This "normal day" shines as a beacon of accomplishment and fulfillment. On this day I am productive, organized, I'm Donna Reed and Claire Huxtable, I am the Matilde of Pablo Neruda's poems. I am George Eliot and Annie LaMott and Martha Stewart (without the ankle bracelet or the budget). But this "normal day" is a fragile thing. It's balance is upset by the merest of occurances...a long distance phone call, a surprise visit, a sick child, a meeting. I think that this "normal" day means certain activities being accomplished at certain times. Writing first thing in the morning, dinner started precisely at 5. Which is so bad. Because, of course, if I don't meet that standard than I either don't do it at all (excellent avoidance technique, by the way) or I get all frustrated in the attempt to "catch up".
Never mind that the "normal day" is a myth. There are always interruptions and schedule adjustments and just plain fun, spontaneous opportunities that spring up like mushrooms after a rain. Am I going to martyr myself to some mythology and begin seething with resentment or frustration every time life happens? No, I say to you, no!
I sat down the other day to consider my full and rather sloppy plate. Everything on that plate needs to be there. I'm not over committed as I am more than happy to use the holy word "no". But the plate is full nonetheless and I must tuck in, every day, no matter what is happening. At first I considered an hour by hour schedule but realized that that will only perpetuate the myth. The problem is that my thinking is too rigid and precise. I looked again at everything I have on that plate. I have to run the household (yum, plate cooked salmon). I have volunteer work at school (broccoli, with hollandaise). There is family time (rice pilaf) and my writing projects (ceasar salad, with lots of croutons). I have to care for myself, without which none of the rest matters much anyway (cherries jubilee). It is a good plate, well-balanced and satisfying.
Then I started thinking in color. (I'm all about the symbolism, baby). I gave all the areas in my life a color (food is messy and attracts flies). I made a little chart of how my time is carved up during the week. Turns out, most days do in fact have a similar flow (probably what gave birth to the myth in the first place). But some days have set obligations that disrupt the flow. Only that was exactly the mentality I wish to avoid. If I consider a standing Parent Club meeting as a disruption, won't I start to resent it? And I like my Parent Club gig...I work with a fantastic, fun group of people and just by being on the committee I guarantee satisfying my school volunteer contract for the year. It's a good thing. It is an opportunity.
I looked at all those wondrous blocks of time and first I just allowed myself to feel grateful. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I am so fortunate to be able to be home. My days, even with their "obligations" are gifts.
I've created an inspiring little chart which hangs above my desk. It is not a set-in stone schedule. It is a tool for helping to retrain my brain. If I find myself floudering I can look at it and see that this might be a good time to focus on a project around the house or to clear the decks for some writing. It's pegged to blocks of time but that's not really the point. It just shows me, when motivation is disrupted or at a lull, how to reboot myself. It demonstrates that I don't have to reinvent the day every time something happens. Because something will happen. I want to be open to those opportunities while banishing notions like resentment and guilt. My little chart shows me, if nothing else, that there is time every day, no matter what is going on, to clean my plate. It doesn't matter WHEN I do it. Some days I may have dessert first, sometimes not. What matters is that I enjoy the meal.
So, last night Luke said "yes" to Lorelie's proposal. I'm as happy as I would be if they were real people. What will I wear to the wedding?
Never mind that the "normal day" is a myth. There are always interruptions and schedule adjustments and just plain fun, spontaneous opportunities that spring up like mushrooms after a rain. Am I going to martyr myself to some mythology and begin seething with resentment or frustration every time life happens? No, I say to you, no!
I sat down the other day to consider my full and rather sloppy plate. Everything on that plate needs to be there. I'm not over committed as I am more than happy to use the holy word "no". But the plate is full nonetheless and I must tuck in, every day, no matter what is happening. At first I considered an hour by hour schedule but realized that that will only perpetuate the myth. The problem is that my thinking is too rigid and precise. I looked again at everything I have on that plate. I have to run the household (yum, plate cooked salmon). I have volunteer work at school (broccoli, with hollandaise). There is family time (rice pilaf) and my writing projects (ceasar salad, with lots of croutons). I have to care for myself, without which none of the rest matters much anyway (cherries jubilee). It is a good plate, well-balanced and satisfying.
Then I started thinking in color. (I'm all about the symbolism, baby). I gave all the areas in my life a color (food is messy and attracts flies). I made a little chart of how my time is carved up during the week. Turns out, most days do in fact have a similar flow (probably what gave birth to the myth in the first place). But some days have set obligations that disrupt the flow. Only that was exactly the mentality I wish to avoid. If I consider a standing Parent Club meeting as a disruption, won't I start to resent it? And I like my Parent Club gig...I work with a fantastic, fun group of people and just by being on the committee I guarantee satisfying my school volunteer contract for the year. It's a good thing. It is an opportunity.
I looked at all those wondrous blocks of time and first I just allowed myself to feel grateful. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I am so fortunate to be able to be home. My days, even with their "obligations" are gifts.
I've created an inspiring little chart which hangs above my desk. It is not a set-in stone schedule. It is a tool for helping to retrain my brain. If I find myself floudering I can look at it and see that this might be a good time to focus on a project around the house or to clear the decks for some writing. It's pegged to blocks of time but that's not really the point. It just shows me, when motivation is disrupted or at a lull, how to reboot myself. It demonstrates that I don't have to reinvent the day every time something happens. Because something will happen. I want to be open to those opportunities while banishing notions like resentment and guilt. My little chart shows me, if nothing else, that there is time every day, no matter what is going on, to clean my plate. It doesn't matter WHEN I do it. Some days I may have dessert first, sometimes not. What matters is that I enjoy the meal.
So, last night Luke said "yes" to Lorelie's proposal. I'm as happy as I would be if they were real people. What will I wear to the wedding?
cobbled together by Moi at 10:32 AM
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