When I was younger, I had a small black book. In it I listed books to read, doodled, hatched ideas, wrote down my thoughts, glued small pictures of beautiful things or artwork, quotes; pretty much anything and everything that rocked my world or made sense in one way or the other. But as I grew older, that little black book was slowly replaced by lists and fell into oblivion. Getting things done, taking responsibility, acting my age elbowed its way to the forefront, and being inspired, daydreaming and creating was something I no longer had the time for. I remember my younger self sitting in a corner of a busy bar on the weekend, writing page after page all night, nursing the same beer for several hours, compelled to get whatever it was out of my head and onto paper (journaling if I remember correctly). I’d love to get to know that version of me again! The only time I show the same frenzy now is when I’m paying the bills. The sense of accomplishment that gives me is sadly one of the highs of my life.
I’ve been
living by my calendar for a long time. Problem is, the calendar soon proved insufficient;
I still ended up making list after list after list. For groceries, for things
to do around the house, of peoples birthdays and other small things to remember.
I even have a list of thing to do for my own enjoyment should that time arrive.
My handbag is full of post-it notes scribbled with very important things not to forget, just waiting to be added to
one of those lists.
As the
lists has grown in number, and each list in length, so has my exhaustion. Trying to
organize my life takes up more time than I have to actually do the thing on the
lists. And the longer the same things lingered on those lists, the more
reluctant I become to get them done. I really resent them, but can't seem to function without them either.
Recently I made
a note of meditating. It had exclamation mark after exclamation mark and was
circled with highlighter. At the time I thought nothing of it. But I found it
yesterday, and something just clicked. How fucked up are you if you have to
make a reminder note of meditating?? Man I’m a mess!!
So I'm daydreaming about a stressless life and how to come about it. In my dreams I'm throwing out all the lists and calendars and settling for something like this:
Very girlie, girlie. Very paired down yet happy, happy. Things to
do is narrowed down to only one thing per day. What to make for dinner has
always been one of the thing I’m always procrastinating over, since I really
don’t like cooking, so it’s way out there – no way to avoid thinking about it.
And so is keeping in touch. I’m terrible at it, and it grates on my conscience all
the time. All the other little things that would normally end up on a list
somewhere is listed under the enjoy! segment. A reminder of that with mindfulness,
even mundane chores that usually would suck the life out of me, can be fulfilling if I just slow down.
And finally, the ‘what happened’ part to
start me journaling again and to remember what to be grateful for.
However, this figment of my imagination is scaring the living hell out of me. How will I ever remember everything? The control freak in me screams in horror. So no, at the time this is not a viable alternative for me, but I wish it could be. I'll probably just do a post it note detox and work my way from there. Baby steps, right?!
However, this figment of my imagination is scaring the living hell out of me. How will I ever remember everything? The control freak in me screams in horror. So no, at the time this is not a viable alternative for me, but I wish it could be. I'll probably just do a post it note detox and work my way from there. Baby steps, right?!
Sincerely,
Pepsi-Mama
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