Perspective

A New Day

I sent this horrible photo to a friend yesterday morning. 

The lighting, composition, and subject were not the point. 

The fact that the yellow-bathed counter was empty was the point. Devoid of dirty dishes.

And no, I was not bragging at my housekeeping skills; much the opposite! 

I wanted visual evidence of this most foreign occurrence. 

Time-stamped proof that at one point in time, however brief it may be, the dishes are done, man.*

A short time later, I also lit the wood stove from the previous night’s embers without a match. 

It did occur to me that it may be my last day on earth. 

Me being productive, successfully, consistently just doesn’t happen. 

If I do the things, it’s usually the wrong things, done in avoidance of the things that should be getting done. Which as a mom is actually pretty easy to do without being caught out because they are so many feckin’ things to do. 

But as this uber-meta book I just read pointed out, Hamlet says the mind is where no one gets away with anything – least of all on anal-retentive-perfectionist-with-a-penchant-for-people-pleasing-that-pushes-productivity planet. 

And so, on days like this, when I do a lot of the things that should get done on the daily, plus things that were actually on my list, the warm feeling it engenders somewhere between my sternum and Adam’s apple is certainly foreign. 

I know productivity does not equal worth and is not a requirement of rest, but whether it’s success that feels foreign or the new parameters I’ve finally adopted and embodied for myself after logically knowing them for awhile now, it feels like a new day. 

I even did all.the.dishes last night. 

And, yes, as I type that, I’m fighting the urge to duck under the table to hide from the obviously imminent lightning bolt about to zap me in half.

Foreign feelings take a while to feel familiar. 

Hopefully it’ll take awhile for the dishes to pile up again, too.  

* bonus points if you know from which 80s teen movie that line comes
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anxiety, Living, May is Mental Health Month, Mental Health

Entropy

I used to like you.

You were a concept I thought was rebellious, unique in its dysfunction.

I scribbled your name on the brown paper bag book cover of my science book.

I joked how my life was a measure of entropy.

I didn’t know that my worst day of stress or ill-preparedness back then was a cakewalk compared to now.

While entropy is supposed to be unpredictable, I can feel myself slipping into it.  That detached feeling while everything swirls around me.  Worries, permission slips, due dates, appointments, a specific pair of pants to be washed, thoughts, concerns, shopping lists, stresses.  I cringe as I await the fallout.  The important detail missed.  The distractedness in me leading to some major misstep.  I know it’s coming.  I know it’s only a matter of time.  I dread it.  It makes me sick.  Makes me feel like I need a keeper.  Yet I can’t stop the feeling, can’t prevent the catastrophe.

It’s only after the catastrophe that I am emptied – of the dread, the worry.  Only to be filled with sorrow, regret, and guilt.  Ashamed that I scraped the side of my car along the opening of the garage as I pulled in.  Mortified that the bus driver awaited my return at the foot of my driveway; that my children had to wonder where I was.  Weak with worry that I could do something so stupid.  And it’s in that low place that I determine such a scenario will never occur again.

And for a while, I am good.  I dial back the enthusiasm when scheduling things.  I plan ahead.  I try to allow for more time than I optimistically think I need.

But slowly, slowly I forget that ‘limp as a dishrag’ feeling following the sick rush of adrenaline and life ratchets up again.

exergy_tube

Is it like the volcano that releases all its pressure with an eruption and then lies dormant again?

Do I push and push and push until my psyche can’t take it anymore and I get set back to the starting block – only to do it all over again?

Sisyphus has been bounding around in my head a lot lately.  A friend pointed out that any upward or forward motion is good – even if it doesn’t result in reaching the summit.  I need to explore these ideas.  Because a whole lot of $#!7 keeps hitting the fan and it keeps on spinning.

Entropy is not my friend anymore.  Chaos is not anti-establishment.  It is insanity.  I know there will always be a measure of ‘can-go-wrong’ness in my life, in anyone’s, but I can’t let it build to the boiling point at set intervals if I want to live a peaceful life.

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