Trapped 

One of the things I love about my friends is their ability to bring the realness and also share their personal experiences and insights. I am thankful for the conversations that we have and the connections that we share. 

I am currently situated in the land of excuses. I make a lot of them. I’m tired. I’m working too much. I’m busy. I’m stressed. I have a social life. But I stray from the thing that I wish I did full-time on a daily basis. I wish that I was a full-time writer. I wish that I could devote my time and energy to the craft that I love. And yet I don’t. 

I find that I make every excuse in the book, and I think these excuses stem from fear. Fear of failure. Fear that I’ll never finish. Fear that whatever I complete will be completely inadequate. And this is all self-imposed. This is all as a result of my own choices. 

I ultimately choose not to carve out enough time to devote to my craft. I choose not to put myself and the things that I value first. I choose to make my obligations a priority over my dreams. And what does that say about my life? Am I choosing a job-turned career over the career that I really want? Are the successes I currently realize less important because they aren’t really what I want to be achieving? 

I’m conflicted. I’m torn between what I see as survival and what I see as happiness. And I don’t know how to pave the way toward what I want. Instead, I allow fear and doubt to hold me hostage somewhere where I am good, but not great. I’m settling. 

I don’t have answers to my questions outside of the obvious. I need to make more time. I just don’t know how to absolve the guilt of not giving “100%” to my current commitments. I haven’t figured out how to re-prioritize. 

I feel stuck, and I need to pull myself out of this place. 

Rum and Holly

This year, I’m spending the holidays with my family in the Caribbean.

Thus far, we’ve gotten lost on the island maybe three times, we’ve gone grocery shopping twice, we’ve cooked three meals, we had some amazing seafood, and we’ve gotten settled into our rental house. We’ve got a good amount of space, everyone can go to their respective areas when we need to get away from others, and the weather has been pretty perfect: just a little humid, breezy, and mostly sunny.

We’ve got small gifts for each other, with most of the goodies designated for my teenage niece. At least 5 alpha personalities are present, with one trying to lead the charge in determining what our daily plans will be. I find that highly annoying. I am on vacation; I don’t want anyone telling me how to relax.

I just want to sleep, and tan, and write, and laugh, and drink, and unplug. I don’t want to answer to anyone, and I don’t want to have a schedule. My first rule of vacation: no obligations. I skirt obligations so often already, why not try to curb them during my vacation time?

That being said, my ice is melting. Where’s the rum gone?

Flu-Ville

As we begin to prepare for the Polar Vortex, I started feeling under the weather over the weekend, but by Monday night, I was in a “man down” situation. Fever, chills, sore throat, aches, sinus pressure, and a building cough. Remedies: water, tea with honey, orange juice, soup, crackers, blankets and pillows, cold compresses, yoga sweats, throat lozenges, Advil. Eventually potato, pork, zucchini, and onion stew. Two fingers of whiskey. Tepid shower. I should note up front that this read may make absolutely no sense – I’m not near 100% yet. 
I’d gone into work on Monday, but by the time I made it home, I knew that I wasn’t going to feel better in the morning. Thankfully, I had stopped at the grocery store to pick up some soup and food items for The next couple of days. I originally wanted to just go straight home, but a coworker and I convinced each other to go to the market to get some things that we knew we needed. I’m glad that we had that talk, because I would have been completely ill-prepared for the next few days otherwise.

Waking up on Tuesday morning, I knew there was absolutely no way that I would be able to make it into the office, so I emailed my staff and colleagues to let them know. Then, I made some hot tea and poured a glass of orange juice. I wasn’t really in the mood for food, but I know that you have to nourish yourself when you’re sick. I ate a little bit of breakfast food, but my main objective was to try and bundle up enough to sweat out the fever. I bundled and got back into bed, hoping that I could break my fever with Advil  and water alone. I would fall asleep and wake up sweating and feverish, but it felt like something was working. Most of the day was spent in bed, but when I felt up to it I could got up to make a bowl of soup. Soup and another cup of hot tea, and some orange juice. Really, the last of the orange juice. There was no way I was leaving my cozy apartment though I really wanted more juice. 

Going to bed Tuesday night, I wasn’t clear on how much progress had been made, or whether I had for sure broken the fever, which would mean I am truly on the mend and not contagious. Waking up Wednesday morning, it was clear to me that the fever had not yet broken and that I was losing my voice from coughing. All of the coughing had my throat feeling like it was on fire, and I just wanted something cold that could soothe the pain and something warm that could ease the cough. When the fever finally broke, fits of coughing grew stronger. I am still achy and still coughing, but my fever is gone and I’m not coughing so badly. Much of my voice is gone, and I could use some more throat lozenges, but my throat doesn’t hurt as badly. 

Tomorrow I will be able to go into the office without worrying that I’m going to infect someone, I honestly believe that the worst of this flu has passed. But I think about the fact that I took care of myself without asking anybody for help, to come over or to bring anything, and I wonder if I didn’t ask anybody because I wanted to prove self-sufficiency or if I just didn’t want to be a burden. I could have asked for help, but it didn’t really cross my mind unless I thought about the juice shortage lol. 

Tomorrow morning, into the office I go with a raspy voice, a slight cough, and a few aches. But I will be there working in a much better situation, with much better circumstances, then I’ve had over the last couple of days. So now, if you sleep would kindly come join me, I hope we can make this night restful.

I am glad that this flu came on a week before I travel for Christmas with my family, and I am glad that I should be fine by the time I take my flight. I am grateful that the flu forced me to slow down and take a seat (or bed) to really rest. I don’t like getting sick, but sometimes, maybe our defenses get low so that we are forced to relax and recharge.

All things considered, I cannot wait for my little island holiday. My recommendations for anyone traveling would be to take lots of vitamin c, travel with sanitizing wipes, and stay hydrated. 

Tomorrow our lows are expected to drop to 15 degrees. My road to recovery is a hot ginger green tea with raw honey, lots of layers, and a bottle of Smartwater. 

Building Better Habits

I’ve been allowing too much time to pass me by, not only when it comes to writing, but with life in general. I have too many goals to hide behind the guise of being too busy, too tired, over-committed, or unable to focus. 

I keep waiting for someone to come along and allow me the opportunity to cook, teach, write, be active, love, volunteer, save, and practice self-care. Waiting, as if I can’t take a step forward and open these doors myself. Waiting, perhaps more out of a fear of failure than anything else. I keep waiting, but it’s time. 

If you want to create a positive habit, you have to make a routine and set out to complete it every day. No excuses. No waiting. No one is coming to do it for you or for me. Open the doors, and move forward. Even if the routine is built and completed on faith every day, each completion is a successful piece of the positive habit routine structure being built and solidified. As the routine becomes habit, confidence and contentment build. 

Anything is possible. Now tackle the blank book. 

Big Magic

I think about writing all the time, but I’m not getting to it. I need to improve the amount of time I allow myself for things pertaining to myself: health, sanity, and need to write.

A fellow writer is going into creative coaching. She said if you read one of three books on her list, and you still hadn’t found the motivation to practice your craft, you need her services. Ironically, one of those three books has been sitting on my dining table for about three weeks.

Guess I’d better pick it up and get to work. For me.

Sunday Rest

There is something about a truly restorative weekend – one where you get everything done that you need to accomplish, you enjoy quality time with good people, you have something decadent, you rest, and you feel prepared for the week ahead. Your living space feels de-cluttered and free of chaos. You expressed yourself in some creative way.

I don’t typically have this experience, but this is always the goal. More often than not, the only way I could accomplish all of this would be with an extended weekend. Even a three-day weekend feels short. Definitely works if we institute a four-day weekend.

A three-day workweek may not be very long, but I can tell you this: if I was looking forward to a four-day weekend, I’d be incredibly productive.

Though much of my time this weekend was eaten up by travel, I got to spend quality time with some good friends, have a good cigar and some cocktails, enjoy the sunshine on a beautiful Sunday, run some errands, and relax while watching my team in the playoffs. Maybe I didn’t get as much accomplished as I would have liked, and I didn’t necessarily prep for the week the way I’d like to, but I got in many of the good things. I didn’t check my work email too often, I laughed and had some really thought-provoking conversation, and I got to see some friendly faces.

One particular conversation touched on important aspects of life that matter most: finances, personal health, and friends/family. Though these things may seem narrow, they’re really umbrellas for career, personal goals, happiness, autonomy, etc. The other stuff is just ancillary. It was nice to feel like someone else related to that. Those three are enough to juggle, without worrying about outside factors that can certainly be complementary but aren’t necessities.

There are a lot of things you can’t control, but within these three categories, there is more than enough to focus on. Let the other stuff fall into place.

Insatiable Reading

Read.

Sometimes I find myself more ready to read other works than write my own. But I love it. Smut, murder mysteries, memoirs, autobiographies, historical pieces… I’ve always been a book worm.

I hope that some day someone looks forward to my pieces as much as I do those of other writers.

Protect Writing Days

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Err on the side of writing. Meetings will always be there.

Revisiting Storms

As I get to know my new colleagues — my counterparts– I find that we connect well, we team together often, and we agree on management styles, productivity, and creating policy. We fight the drama together, and we keep each other supported. I like this team.

Due to past experiences, I’ve taken my time getting to know them, having heard various accounts of their personalities and supposed tactics from my predecessor. I chose to form my own opinions under the belief that one person’s experiences don’t dictate the experiences of another. This decision certainly opened opportunities for us to bond and form new understandings based on our interactions.

Over lunch this week, the team began to share about family and grief, blogging and forms of therapy and detox. Another colleague mentioned journaling using the 750 Words app, so I shared that I’ve been blogging for 13 years now. That what started off as a purely organic mind dump each day, to lighten the burden on my shoulders, became my refuge for taking down the weight in exchange for a couple hundred words.

I shared my grief gingerly, unsure how it would be received by my colleagues, but they’ve been incredibly supportive and kind; they have been open and generous. The story has so many levels, intricately woven together to recount what happened when my sister died, how my parents were affected, and what I kept to myself.

After sharing, I was proud of myself,  mostly because I didn’t cry as I recounted what happened in the accident and during trial. I didn’t cry as I explained the effect of such a loss on my family. My colleagues were the epitome of support. Asking questions where they felt comfortable, offering short-term resolutions that could prove helpful.

I’m just grateful that we could connect, that they were respectful and kind, and honestly, that they have a greater understanding of how I operate and why I do what I do for my students. This was accomplished without a breakdown, or even a tear, in a solemn conversation that felt safe and delicately handled.

I can’t complain. Missing her is always heavy, but being able to tell others about her lovely personality and all her goals brings me a great deal of comfort.

Good talk.