Sunny Sunday

On windy days like this, I wonder how the pioneers handled the constant prairie wind. In the spring it seems to never end. A breeze would be appreciated, instead of the constant 35 mph near-gale force wind we have. Other than that, the grass is greening up and I haven’t asked the Babe (yet) to move three very small hydrangeas from the enclosure he built last year. I can tell they will be large plants and I think they need more sun than they received last year.

It took me quite awhile to learn I could have “down” time, I didn’t have to be constantly busy. When I was a stay at home Mom, I felt very alone. We lived in an old neighborhood, it was hard to meet people my own age. Once the kids started school, I did meet some really nice women and had good friends. We often took the kids places together, we had Zoo passes for families, and made a day of it.

Most of the girlfriends I had in high school all went to college. Everywhere I looked, women’s lives were changing. Working away from the home was even the topic in the women’s magazines I read. Not as many recipes or projects to knit, sew, or crochet. I felt I had to justify my existence by accomplishing a lot every day. I refinished woodwork, I made many, many of the Christmas gifts we gave, and the house was ridiculously clean by 10 a.m. every day.

All that activity and no down time. As a single mom, add schooling to working full time and raising my family. I needed a degree for a better salary. The example Mom gave was do more, do it faster, do it better. It was her way of coping with her life, and therefore, it’s how I coped with mine. No one ever told her yet she can slow down. She is not aging gracefully, but goes kicking and screaming along the way. The changes of aging are not being accepted. We have nothing to prove to anyone anymore. Perfection is often a lie. Wearing ourselves out so we fall in bed at night was the order of each day, only to rise the next day to do it all over again the next day.

When I was forced into early retirement due to disability, I fell into a funk and took time to adjust to being able to work anymore. I felt put out to pasture at 48. I went on Medicare at 50. That really deepened my funk. The Babe and I were married. I volunteered for about ten years, and filled the void. Eventually, it led to taking up writing. I was still evolving, still growing, still living. I learned to relax. The Babe taught me to procrastinate. It actually feels powerful to choose putting something off until the next day. I do it when I’m tired. No more frantic activity for this woman. Things are much less “immediate” to me now. Yes, some things take precedence, but unless a life depends on me sweeping the kitchen floor, it can wait. I’m more important than a clean floor.

So many of us lose ourselves trying to attain perfection. And we never get there because it’s impossible. Working harder is not the answer. Having balance in your life is. Living your own truth is the only way to find peace. Admit to who you are, what you want to do, and how you can grow. We grow by learning all of our lives. We’re always on the path to becoming, whether 19 or 91. Forget being busy for busyness sake. Do what you do for the right reasons now, not reasons that make no sense anymore. Yesterdays wounds should not dictate your present and future life.

Be Kind to yourself today. Be patient with yourself today. Take a break today. You deserve it. Thanks for reading, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a beautiful Sunday.

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