I am a neat freak. And I hate to be late. Both of these obsessions cause me anxiety.
In this renovation year, I'm trying to let go of things that make me feel stressed or take too much negative thinking time. So I've experimented with leaving dishes in the sink and dirty clothes on the floor (overnight is the best I can do).
I know that I work better when things are organized, but I don't have to run to the kitchen every time I finish a glass of water. I can leave my dirty clothes from tonight and take them with my dirty pajamas in the morning.
Over the past few weeks, it seems I'm running behind more often than not, so I've continually lectured myself that it's okay to arrive a few minutes after someone else. That everyone is late to doctor's appointments sometimes. That the movie trailers will still be running when I enter the dark theater with my buttered popcorn. That we never start class early; instead we wait until everyone is there and they'll wait for me too.
I probably drove my children crazy with my mess-aversion, and I know my husband has suffered from my need to be on time which contrasts with the fact that he's time-challenged. But I'm living inside this brain of mine and the person who has suffered the most is me!
Turning sixty has been an awakening for me. The 'last gift of time' seems important. Worrying about messes and lateness don't seem to fit in to my new life decor.
2 comments:
A great Al-Anon saying is: "Don't just do something, sit there!". Good (and hard!!) for us busybodies.
The other day I went to see Big Jean. Usually I'm antsy, need to go somewhere, but that day we went outside and sat with the sun shining on our faces and I answered the same questions over and over. We said hello to the staff that was leaving and the staff that was coming in. We were quiet too. Doing nothing was nice. :)
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