This morning is bright and clear. The sun is beaming into my writing room, I have moved Chester’s pup cup into the sunshine and he is curled up and snoozing in the warm winter sun. I’m listening to a podcast on economics (I’m a bit of a nerd in this way), drinking my coffee and feeling pretty good about today.
Yes, it’s -19c outside and there’s an extreme weather warning in place, but I look out the window and see the sun bouncing off the snow, and the world looks beautiful. I am grateful for my little house, my little dog; my happy house.
Still though, I find myself struggling with the idea that I should be doing other things – I have a stack of boxes behind me that really need to go into the basement if I want to make this room a bit cozier. But I’m starting to realize that these ‘shoulds’ are coming from somewhere else – not organically mine, these ‘shoulds’.
I mean, yes, I want the boxes moved… and I’ve gotten about half of them out of here (it’s a tall order for a fat 55 your old person to carry all these boxes downstairs in one go). But somehow I feel like I ‘should’ have gotten these boxes out of here already and that enjoying writing in the sun is somehow indulgent when there is work to be done. Why am I not organized? my little voice shames myself. Why does everything always take me so long to do? Other people would have this done by now. (mom, is that you?)
Here are some facts: I’ve been in this house for 1.5 months. December was a busy month at work, and a busy month emotionally. The first Christmas after you lose someone you love is very difficult: it requires a lot of work to attend to these emotions – to honour them, let them work through you. And that’s pretty exhausting.
I arrive today at the first Saturday in the New Year. The first day that I feel better, emotionally, and able to enjoy the house that I’ve chosen to live this part of my life in. So why am I beating myself up about what is NOT perfect yet? Where on earth did this come from in me? I have a plan – I have stacked some boxes at the top of my basement stairs. Every time I go down, I take a box with me. This is a fair plan. (of course now I avoid going in the basement because I have to take a box with me…lol). Yet, even though I have thought it through and I have a plan, I find my critical little voice chastising myself because I haven’t just dug in and moved them all.
My life, my choices – so shut up little voice.
That’s my motto for this year: Shut Up, Little Voice. I will listen to some voices: the voice that tells me I should hurry up because I’m late for work. The little voice that tells me that I’m not paying attention to my own needs. That one for sure. But the little voice that says ‘You aren’t good enough. You’re not measuring up’… That voice is being banned from my head. I had enough happiness taken from me last year, I do not need to voluntarily give my happiness to the voices in my head.
I am feeling hope that today will be a good one. I won’t try to forecast what tomorrow will be like – I’m happy to live just this day, right now. And I might even take a box downstairs.
Of course, now I’m worrying that I have too many little voices in my head…