Committed

 

 

 

 

com·mit·ted

kəˈmitid/

adjective

 

1.

feeling dedication and loyalty to a cause, activity, or job; wholeheartedly dedicated

To a relationship? No. To a diet? No, I just ate two donuts (ok, three). I'm committed to this blog. It's late. I've had a couple glasses of wine (ok, three) and I'd really like to go to sleep BUT I'm not. I wanted to write for the 30 people, I'm exaggerating, that read my blog.

This week's thoughts:

I learned how to write comedies... this will be added to the list.

I'm learning that I have a thing for older men... that won't be added to the list.

I can't live without my planner.

The days get longer but time is harder to come by.

Priorities are priorities and I can trust that I know what's not.

It's ok to be "bad" sometimes.

I'm right where I need to be.

I'm happy.

It's Going to be Great!

Soooo my schedule is picking up. I picked up another job starting this week and another starting the beginning of next month. When I look at it on paper it looks awful rough but I’m learning a new technique. I’m redirecting my mind to forget about all the negatives I’ve learned to tell myself out of fear and laziness. I’m sticking with the phrase, “I can and it’s going to be great!”

 Do I sound like a fruit cake? Yes. Am I putting up a façade of false giddiness? Most cases, yes. Do I believe that in the end I will be happier, more experienced and better off? Absolutely. I’m faking it until I make it reality. Breaking the bad habits of constant exhaustion and the need for more “me” time. I’ve got me time, I just have to wake up a little earlier to experience it and am I really exhausted? No, I just like to sleep. I’ve got something to do every day and night of the week; choir, school, meditation, Zumba, work, work and work.  I get a few free afternoons and if I do what I’m supposed to when I’m supposed to, I can have all the hours after 9pm. Simple. The hard part will be building that discipline to where it was and beyond, without the feeling of agony and suffering. When I think about it... I’m doing exactly what I want to do.

I’M DOING EXACTLY WHAT I WANT TO DO!

Feels good to say that. I’ve got no one pushing me into a corner, no one telling me where I can’t and shant. I’ve got the world at my fingertips it just takes some effort to reach out and grab it.

I’ll be working on a few things over the next couple months. If you have ideas for other blogs or have topics worth discussing let me know.

Back to School... At 27

I hadn’t realized how late it was getting. Fragrant water was still dripping from my mangled ringlets as I checked my phone for the time. 9:58. Thoughts of tardiness encouraged my next quick steps. I balanced myself on one foot as I applied my sock then the other, I repeated the same with my shoes but didn’t tie them.  Then to the bathroom where I gathered my toothbrush and checked myself in the mirror one last time. Clomping down the wooden staircase I intruded upon the sleeping vessel of my roommate on the couch, her blithe toddler beamed at me from the pile of toys, executing their job to pacify her.

I directed a question to the lazy basset hound snoozing in my favorite recliner, “You wanna go outside, Heen?” Not waiting for his answer I made a direct path to the back door to let him out. He slowly gathered his bones and hopped down to meet me. My goddaughter’s coos grew louder as she followed her furry friend past her sleeping mother and through the kitchen. I scooped our Punkinface into my arms just before she made it to the door. Clad in only a diaper, her skin was cool to my touch. Her fever had broken, but not before her mother and I had lost all hope of a good night’s sleep. She let out an exhausted whine before she surrendered her tiny head to my chest. I looked at clock by the stairs.

By the end of week one I was already tired and rushed. I exchanged my salary and title at the shop to “second semester, freshman” at Hollins University. One goal led my actions, I want to write.

I gave up the idea of going to a four year school years ago. I was getting further away from “college age” with every passing year and decided that if I went back it would be to the community college nearby or an online school. I didn’t want to go to school at all. I tried on a couple different occasions to take classes but I was never sure of what I wanted or why I was there. I knew I was intelligent, I knew I was a good writer. Did I really need to be formally educated?

I wrote, read and learned what I wanted, never considering myself a good student. I didn’t know anything about studying for test or doing homework.  I got by with gumption. My father taught me to ask questions and make educated guesses when I didn’t have time to find the answer. That’s how I have lived my life, until now; school demands accuracy, effort and all the extra time I can afford.

 Here I am, 10:05 on a Thursday morning, wearing the weight of every choice I have ever made on my chest.

I’ve made no other promises but to finish. I’ll make this one of the few things I’ve ever really committed to. I will use this as an opportunity to grow intellectually as well as in maturity. This time I’m all in and I know what for. I finally know what I want. Prayers and positive thoughts appreciated… let the adventures begin.

Breath of Life

“Our differences are far outweighed by the similarities of our human experiences.” – Someone

It’s quotes like these that encourage me to share my thoughts and my stories:

I didn’t care if it was my best friend or the 10-year-old I found myself annoyed by. I wanted credit for what I had done. I found the words rolling off my tongue before I realized my audacity.

“No, I cleaned up the Legos. Not them.”

She’s always so good to take me with a grain of salt. She nodded and continued what she was doing. She’s my best friend. 

I cleaned the house. I spent hours cooking and cleaning, not them. The folded clothes and dusted shelves were my doing. I didn’t even do a particularly good job but I had added those miniscule items to my real and imaginary to-do list, then crossed them off.

It was in the shallowest part of my breathing and meditation class that I was still enough to hear my inner voice point out my triviality. Where does that come from? Without and answer I sat still, waiting for the peacemaker to rise. My tattered old shirt hung loose around my body. My pants gave way to my thighs as they expanded against the uncomfortable chair. I sat. I Breathed.

In the quiet darkness of my mind, the images of my actions and thoughts paraded past my warm red eyelids. The words came to me just as clear and easy as I had hoped.

It’s okay to be like everyone else. You are them.

But I’ve got to be different, I argued. I’ve got to be special. If I’m not special, what am I? What will I have to give?

Fear rushed through my veins, pumped by hurt and insecurity. If I’m not special who will 

care for me?

Breathe.

Fear surrendered to the surge of oxygen, the presence of life. Peace took its place. I had been taught it, said it myself and preached it, in that moment I realized I hadn’t been living it. These are the savory parts of life I thank the God I know for patience and wisdom. Kindness and mercy.

Progress has been made for sure. No less than my brother and no greater than my friends. I am them.

Breathe it in.

How to Breathe Correctly

How to Reduce Stress and Anxiety

4 Minute Breathing Exercise