To my Dear Overly Stressed-Out Ball of Perfectionistic Imperfections,
I had one of those days yesterday when everything seemed off-kilter. Just could not seem to do the right thing at the right time, no decision seemed the right one, I was impatient with myself and the dog, was racing around Gabriola again trying to "get things done" on a beautiful Sunday morning that was meant to be savoured, not stressed over. Just one of those days.
What do you do? I can't seem to breathe deep enough - the next breath is always shallow again. I can't turn my brain off - it just chatters away endlessly about all the things we need to do and that I need to stress about. I can't seem to enjoy this beautiful paradise that I live in - because my internal structure is screaming for release and I can't let myself just relax into the environment.
Wait, can't? Or won't? What's the lie here? What will happen if I just relax?
I don't know. I've rarely attempted it.
These are the moments that I wish I were just a dumb beast. A horse or a dog that has me as their exemplary, perfectly attentive owner and caretaker, of course. OK so neither of those are dumb, but they are not equipped for fussing about the details they can't control. Neither do they get to make decisions about where they go, and what they do, and how long they do it for. The dog in my care basically just decides when she wants to go outside, and come back in, and eat. The rest is up to me. My horses decide how fast they eat, how much space they give up or take from the other horse, how they relate to me and how impatiently they wait at the gate to be let out. That's about it. I choose the rest for them.
This week is one of those weeks when I wish someone would choose all the details of my life. The choices are so great and so many that I get befuddled and worried that I'm doing the wrong thing. I have too many damn options! Isn't that what people want? I have created a life of only options, and very much complexity results. I thought that was what I wanted.
But apparently, I cannot seem to relax because there is too much work to be done, and too many good things to savour, and too much pressure to "get it right" and not waste time. What is that pressure? Where does it come from and why does it rule my life?
I can't seem figure it out for now, and so yesterday I did the only thing I could think to do when I'm spinning out like that. I had a beer or three, sat in the hot tub, read a book, and just ignored the list. "I will be productive tomorrow."
"List, you're just going to have to wait, because this anxious, uptight little mare needs a break from herself."
And you know what? Other than feeling physically a bit crappy because I've been on a cleanse and my body doesn't like beer much anymore, that was a good decision.
Unhook. Unwind. Unspool. Release.
Sometimes that's all I can achieve in a day.
Bisous, ma chere amie! You're gonna make it. Today is a new day.