What a day this has been. What a swell mood I’m in, and it’s almost like being in love with life again. My day started beautifully with a 20 minute 2.2km run (yes, you read that right, this former heavy smoker/binge drinker never-exercised-in-her-life couch-potato) around the reservoir.
Yesterday evening I had another stunning res run, more of an indulgent 4km dawdle really as I took in the flora and fauna and the incredible scenery I’m so lucky to have right here on my doorstep.
I’m still incredulous at the effect physical exercise has on my mental state. On Monday, I was flaky to say the least. Forgetful could periodically become my middle name – did I mention I left my house keys in the door overnight recently? My mood dropped on Saturday night as I felt worse and worse about myself and became isolated, condemning myself to seemingly endless hours of solitary confinement. It’s all about work really. I had a rough shift with rude obnoxious drunks (talk about pot/kettle/black – I feel a sense of regret, even though I was labelled a funny drunk and mainly drank alone at home) and I keep letting work affect me. I’m in a transition phase in which I miss music so much but I no longer crave the lifestyle I often enjoyed 5 years ago. I don’t want to sit in my car for hours on end. I don’t want to stress out about not being offered work. I have no ambition whatsoever to be Principal Harp with an orchestra. I want to share my love for music and creativity in different ways, through performance, teaching and perhaps writing. Maybe it’s normal at this stage in my life where I’m probably peri-menopausal. As I review my life and my choices, I regret a few things which I realise come down to living quite a nomadic life. Yes, I’ve travelled a lot. I’ve seen some amazing places and lived some life changing experiences, but I was always so focused on my work that my personal life was left by the wayside. I was never really a tourist at my destinations.
As I approach one big L of a birthday benchmark, living my life to its fullest has become my priority. I want to enjoy myself. I want to have fun. I want to meet new people. I’d love to meet a significant other. I want to finish my house off and get it looking and feeling like the dream home I envisioned when I bought it eight years ago. It might yet happen. I can see it a lot of the time, more and more as I write. Words become flesh.
Combining business with pleasure really works for me. This morning’s run took place before my 4 hour Wednesday shift. I saw oystercatchers and curlews and the weather was wonderful. I got so excited about my day! I had my long awaited picnic in the sun and basked barefoot before heading for the bakery scented air-conditioned shop. My mood dwindled gradually as the endorphins rushed away and by the 4th hour, my focus was drifting big time. I made a mistake, at least I thought I’d made a mistake. I’m still not sure but to be on the safe side, I called the manager and ‘fessed up. At the end of my shift I was called into the office by the other manager as he started his shift. We discussed events, and I felt worse and worse as I tried to make sense of the contributing factors which led to my hesitation. Dear readers, I cried. I couldn’t help it. It was out of guilt at the knock on effect my error has on others. I admit I’m slow and I lack confidence because I truly am a bit out of my depths. I feel like a fish out of water. Shop work isn’t my ideal job and I don’t think I’m cut out for it, but it’s a hell of a lot better than being on the dole and sponging off the state. I’m enjoying learning new skills and I LOVE meeting people, engaging with them and if I can and if it’s appropriate, bringing some cheer into their day. I suppose they call it work because it’s just that. Unfortunately, I find it hard to see it as just that.
I processed things before collapsing in a sleepy heap on the sofa for an hour and I decided to leave it all at the shop. I’m not carrying that round with me until my next shift. I likened my situation to that of let’s say an unmusical manager having a hundred hours of harp lessons and having to play for a wedding. I rest my case.
I have no playing work until the end of August (make that the end of July actually – oops!) which gives me ample time to sort my shit out and do some serious planning around my creativity and the life I want for myself. In many ways, I’m lucky not to have the burden of children but that brings with it an almost all consuming engulfing sense of emptiness. My cat is great company but she can’t satisfy most of my needs.
Thumping the pavements and grass verges around the village and its environs gives me headspace, and the meditative state I enter is a very positive addiction. I WANT to get up in the morning. I still feel fear around getting lost, falling and failing but that soon passes with the passionate pumping of my increased heart rate. I used to avoid exercise out of fear for my hands and feet. Breaking something would mean loss of income and not surviving. That’s gone and I mock myself a bit as encouraging phrases like “she galloped gazelle-like past flaming gorse on a scramble through burnished broom, brazen bramble and nettle” stream through my head, huffing and puffing, red-faced with exertion. When it’s not words, it’s music and lyrics. Just now, I was preparing a hard boiled egg for lunch and “Peel It” by Michael Jackson popped into my ears. It’ll be there all afternoon if I’m not careful! Does it ever stop? I’m not sure and I find that reassuring. I’m learning to manage my creativity in new ways. I’d say my resilience is at an all time high.
In the pool last night, I watched my buddy C get out and ogled her sculpted left buttock. She goes to spin class. Hmmmmm. I wonder when I could fit spin in…
Rare Bit Blogging 