I’ve been realising how little I actually speak to other people when it’s up to me. Today I spoke small talk to two shop assistants – pleasant enough. But when I think about it, that’s the first time I’ve said anything to anyone since Saturday. Four days without speaking. I’ve communicated a heap – on twitter, farcebook, instagram, texting etc. I’ve written two long letters – yes, with pen and paper! – full of love and longing, but I haven’t spoken out aloud with or to someone else. I have sung a little, but that’s just me normally around the house and I never sing around other people. Is that weird?
My front door went from zero to hero with my pot plant revamp today. I had two very heavy black pots with ugly little plants left behind when I moved in. I knew they’d filled them up with dirt but I didn’t realise it’d petrified into stone 🙂 The other owners did mix their soil with beanbag foam though! Yikes.
Now it’s dug out and with some lively Aussie natives. I can add a few each month now and build a sweet and colourful entrance. Yay!
Monday is a hard day for me. If you’re like me, you’ve spent a bit of your weekend planning the to do list for the week. And if you’re like me, your list is a loooonnnnngggggg one – too long.
So come Monday morning, I hit the ground running. My self talk is all “I’ll do this first, then on the way to do this thing, I’ll pick up that thing and drop off two other things, and then I’ll get to work to start my 8hr day of to do things there”… No wonder I fall in a heap by mid afternoon!
Just to make things super interesting – and ramp up the difficulty by a factor of 2.5 – throughout, I chide myself that I’m not quick enough, finishing enough, creating enough, impressing enough. And because I’ve spent the day berating me, I go home – late – as a failure.
How did I get this screwed up? Maybe a realistic plan to move towards my goals (whilst still helping everyone else with there’s)? No?
Monday’s should become my ease-in day, my take my time day, my baby steps day. And not just a hell day to get through to the other side.
I hate Sunday nights. They remind me how much time I didn’t use to get stuff done on the weekend. And by ‘stuff’, I mean the things I want to do, not have to do.
I imagine everyone else is the same – chores, cleaning, for me – house hunting… Catching up with friends is getting pushed more and more down the list as non-essential. Sunday nights are also when the headache that will be my constant companion until usually Tuesday evening begins.
And yet, I have hope. That there’s light at the end of the tunnel, my home will come, I’ll get to see people I actually like, spend more time with the family, crafting, cooking, gardening – and not fitting it in between hanging out the third and fourth loads of laundry.
I believe in the pendulum swinging…and it’s coming back to centre. It is.