163 // Saturdays

I’ve forgotten that for some, perhaps even most, of the world, Saturday is considered the end of the week. Working for a school district has conditioned me to consider Sunday the end and Monday to be the official beginning. As such, I know what Sundays are for, and I dread what Mondays mean, but I’m never quite sure what to do with a Saturday.

For the most part, I consider Saturday to be my day, but the designation is vague and subject to whims and cravings. They are the days I sleep in. The days I spend on the couch, binge-watching shows, and eating snacks rather than meals. They are days I go hiking, visit friends, or get a little retail therapy. They are the days I do nothing that could be considered constructive at all, and there is nothing wrong with any of that per se except that at the end, I’m left with guilt and regret.

The guilt I chalk up to capitalism and the culture of productivity and dismiss it the best I can, but the regret is more personal. The regret comes from wishing I’d made a little more use of the day for me.

I’ve decided what’s needed—and what I have the time and energy for—is reflection. That is, time to take stock of wins and losses, successes and failures. Time to make cuts and make changes. Time to make a plan.

I haven’t been so great at that lately. I haven’t been present in my life for a long while now and what little gets done gets done without thought or awareness. Sure, I’ve had moments of clarity and flashes of motivation and resolve. I’ve had nothing more than a few fleeting moments of focused energy and passion. Most of my day—too much of my day—is spent in dense clouds of near unconsciousness. Nothing has been coming in and less has been coming out.

Starting today I’m taking stock of my week and looking back there is much to be proud of. The truth is, I have been making great strides for months now, building confidence and facing many small fears and for the first time, I’m ready for more. It will take some clarity and forethought and I can do that from the bed, from the couch, and all the while I’m watching my shows and enjoying my snacks.

There can still be time for plenty of nothing too.

158 // Purgatory

Mondays are Mondays. There’s really no use in complaining about them or wishing they were other days located further along the week. Each cycle must begin somewhere and every week must have its Monday. It’s only a start, nothing more.

This particular Monday started off well. The week’s workload is light and I’m in a bit more control of my time. The evenings are going to take a little more out of me but my hope is with a few more hours of time and a little more space in my mind I’ll not only get through the tasks and to-dos, but have a little of myself left over for writing.

It’s been months since I touched my paper journal or my logbook. It’s been weeks since I’ve had a handle on a lot of habits I meant to keep up, but not writing by hand or documenting my days has felt like the biggest failure. I’m working on making time first thing in the morning, and perhaps doing different kinds of updates on different days depending on time constraints.

Perhaps half entries some days and updating only the next day on busier days filling up pages for the past days and filling in future weeks or months when I have a little more time? Perhaps nothing will get me back to the page, or to meditating, or to reading, or to taking courses, or jogging, or any of the other habits that have formed and faded over the years. Perhaps failure is the only habit that has endured…

That isn’t true. I have changed quite a bit over the years and only grown healthier, more mindful, more learned and disciplined with age. I’ve already missed so many days it’s hard to want to go back. It’s hard to swallow your pride, to forgive yourself, and begin again from the start. Denial of your faults is everlasting bliss, and procrastination means never feeling disappointment.

Purgatory may not be heaven, but it’s preferable to risking hell.

157 // Far From Easy

It’s been a while since the house has felt quiet enough for me to sit and write. It’s been even longer since I was calm enough to gather my thoughts. This last week was hard on me with classes to teach every day and some new crisis waiting when I was done.

I can see light at the end of the tunnel though as I take a short break from training and I start recognizing which problems belong to me and which ones don’t.

This weekend I’m taking it easy and reminding myself, and everyone else if I need to, that there is so little time left after work and sleep, meals and chores, that I must be selfish and keep some of it aside for myself. I must be mindful of what my time is meant for and guard it stubbornly against those who ask too much and push too hard.

I’m learning to set boundaries, which isn’t all that hard and practicing communicating those boundaries which is far from easy.

I don’t shy from confrontation normally, but I’m slow to initiate it not out of fear but out of doubt. I never know if my perspective is the right one and I have trouble believing my needs are reasonable. My heart tells me I expect too much and my mind agrees and asks me to understand and endure a little more, a little more, a little more…

But I’m running out of energy, both physically and emotionally, and finding it harder and harder to relax and rejuvenate. The harder life gets, the more I need back to feel motivated and enthusiastic. I think I just need more to look forward to. I need more to happen.

Of course, that part is actually the part that is in my control and that makes it an absolutely terrifying problem to solve, but doing nothing is no longer an option. Through mindfulness, self-love, and action-based optimism, I think I can get there. I can get somewhere. I can make more of my life my own.