I've lately been focused on the big tasks. I convinced myself the small accomplishments didn't matter. Making one step didn't matter if I couldn't finish the journey right at that moment. If I'd taken a step back, I'd have realized my mindset was ridiculous. I can't get all my work for the week done on Monday. I can't upend and reposition my use of social media in an afternoon. These are facts that are known. They were, however, not ideas that were believed. I began to feel like nothing was getting done. The result was frenetic tasking that absolutely made me feel worse. The more I tried to do all The Things, the faster I accomplished none of The Things. How was I so busy and organized with so many incomplete tasks. It was enough to make me cry. Fortunately, my pragmatism did its job.
"Danie," I said to myself, "you can't be accomplishing nothing. You do too much to feel this way, Let's evaluate on a case by case basis."
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Closing Day. I have a mortgage now. |
Pragmatic reason why that's okay: I closed on my house four months ago. It's unrealistic to expect everything to be settled in that time -- especially since I've put a lot of focus into the common areas.
And furthermore: The rooms are painted. The office furniture has been sanded / painted. The art is has been selected and there are only two furniture pieces left to get.
Source of angst: I'm not writing every day.
Pragmatic reason why that's okay: I've never demanded that I write every day. Lyrically it's cool to write like you're running out of time. but that's not my life. It was never my life. I don't even know when that became a goal or why I thought it was a good idea to add that pressure. I am writing more. I'm still figuring out what to say. I'm still figuring out who I want to listen. I'm writing to specific humans I know, who are important and who I want to keep in my life. It's not daily. It doesn't have to be.
And furthermore: I've been reading more books and long form pieces. The storytelling muscles are being stretched. I'm finding myself inspired to share more.
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Pictured: Amazing friends |
Pragmatic reason why that's okay: I'm not ready. I don't feel like being social. I'm instead very curious about basement storage solutions. I'm not settled. I'm also swathed in love and support. If I were tiny, I'd suffocate from it. I have amazing friends who know me and accept my quirks. I very much want to make sure those relationships are maintained. They matter more than a new bar buddy -- though I will need a new trivia team.
And furthermore: I've spent more time with family than I have in the last five years combined. My brother invites me over for dinner and I can just go. I'm absolutely making up for lost time and there's no reason to rush that.
These are some of the things that float through my head while I commute. And while it's all logically reasoned above, this took me months to articulate. It's been three days or realization. Now whenever I catch myself feeling anxious or overwhelmed or generally lacking, I list (on paper) all of the wins that come to mind. Today I realized I didn't eat out once this whole week. I did :30 planks three times in a row (while saying I could NOT for at least :20 each time). I waxed my own brows and was able to show my face in public. I made appointments with new doctors. I did things! I made progress toward my goals. I have wins, despite the state of my bedroom. My new goal is to never forget to remember that.