Over the past months, there are days when I feel a weight of change on my body, in my bones. Your shoulders are a little achy and your ribs feel a little compressed. I believe it is the waiting. Of all the things that we have carried with us during this pandemic, the waiting is I think the heaviest of those things. Yes, there are the cancelled events, the events that happen to which we cannot bear witness (funerals, weddings, bar mitzvah). But we are waiting to start our new normal. Waiting for something that we have no idea about.
There is the odd pressure to still feel productive. To sort and organize, to start something new or finish something long overdue. I still look at my unfinished projects and not-yet-alphabetized CD's and think that I need to get to those. I have three boxes left to sort through. Maybe on Sunday. Sunday seems like a great day to sort through photos. Make a huge pot of tea and haul out the old box and sift and soft and laugh. We have watched a few episodes of Marie Kondo on Netflicks. I know I am likely the only human woman alive who had not heard of her. In case there is someone else reading this who also has no idea who I am referring to, she is a super adorable Japanese woman who helps people with lots of crap organize and sort through it. I mean lots of crap.
On my walk back from the car wash today, I was thinking that because every day is like a day off, I have not actually given myself permission to have a real day off. To lay on the sofa all day and loose myself in a novel. make art or loose myself in a sewing project. Every day has been some task, some errand, some required time to DO. Be that self imposed or not. I want a day off. Next week. Sort of like a sick day. I think maybe Wednesday. Of course I will get up and walk the dogs, and have breakfast and coffee, but then... well, who knows. Maybe I'll just take pictures of the pets all day. Or make a list of all the things I would like to accomplish. Or maybe I'll see if I can find old Oprah shows to watch. But I will give myself permission to have a day of something. What are you needing to give yourself permission to do?
There is the odd pressure to still feel productive. To sort and organize, to start something new or finish something long overdue. I still look at my unfinished projects and not-yet-alphabetized CD's and think that I need to get to those. I have three boxes left to sort through. Maybe on Sunday. Sunday seems like a great day to sort through photos. Make a huge pot of tea and haul out the old box and sift and soft and laugh. We have watched a few episodes of Marie Kondo on Netflicks. I know I am likely the only human woman alive who had not heard of her. In case there is someone else reading this who also has no idea who I am referring to, she is a super adorable Japanese woman who helps people with lots of crap organize and sort through it. I mean lots of crap.
On my walk back from the car wash today, I was thinking that because every day is like a day off, I have not actually given myself permission to have a real day off. To lay on the sofa all day and loose myself in a novel. make art or loose myself in a sewing project. Every day has been some task, some errand, some required time to DO. Be that self imposed or not. I want a day off. Next week. Sort of like a sick day. I think maybe Wednesday. Of course I will get up and walk the dogs, and have breakfast and coffee, but then... well, who knows. Maybe I'll just take pictures of the pets all day. Or make a list of all the things I would like to accomplish. Or maybe I'll see if I can find old Oprah shows to watch. But I will give myself permission to have a day of something. What are you needing to give yourself permission to do?
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