I’ve got a post written (drafted three weeks ago) about the fact I’ve been a misery guts of late. Each time I open it I’ve new fodder to add. New examples of my negative attitude and grizzly manner. New things to whinge about. New frustrations.
The post is now ridiculously long and my original point… which was about the fact I recognise my moodiness and am quick to apologise if I lose my temper (only ever with my mother I must confess) is buried in the sea of negativity.
In the post I comment on the things I’ve felt piling on top of me, I’ve felt like I’m suffocating and have no means of escape. Though at the same time, I realise things like uncertainly around employment, caring for my mother after her surgery and more recently a broken car are mild in comparison to what others grapple with. And I’m ashamed. Until I’m reminded that we all have different breaking points and I shouldn’t deprecate or dismiss the stressors in my life.
A few weeks ago I wrote about FOBO (the fear of better options). I talked at the time about stuff like work and the fact I was prevaricating BIG TIME about my car: having it fixed vs replacing it (and whether I was prepared to buy something basic to get me around, or something I enjoyed driving).
The car thing has been a biggie. It took me about six weeks to make a decision, during which time I could only use my car sparingly. I was hamstrung, not happy about the choices before me.
My values and desires were jousting in my muddled mind. I’m not really working much (only 6.5hrs this past week) so the more responsible and evolved part of me is aware my life is now about balance and not ‘stuff’ and therefore anything would do. But of course, the old me – the pre-seachange me who kept wanting more (well not in quantity, but quality) – wanted something that sparked just a little joy.
As usual, once I made my decision it happened quickly. I bought a car – unseen, un-driven – from a nearby town on a Friday afternoon, arriving early the next week (ie. last week).
I haven’t decided if I love it as much as its predecessor but it’s made a world of difference. I can (again) decide I need / want to go somewhere and or do something and simply do it.
I woke yesterday and stumbled out of bed as usual. Yet something was different. And it occurred to me. Something was gnawing at me but it wasn’t the usual sense of dread. Of hopelessness, of desire to fast-forward that day and those coming. Instead I felt a smidge of positivity. Of hope.
I still need to work on my health and fitness, think about financial security, find more work and do crap around my house. I definitely want to do something with my writing and feel less like I’m thwarting myself in that respect but…. there was a visceral sense of possibility. Something I’ve not felt for some time.
It’s weird that making changes to just one element of my life or solving one of my problems can make such a difference. But something I need to remember as I work through the other stuff.
BTW, this grumble-bum post was initially about feeling grumpy and spiteful and regretting it. Then it was going to be about how disempowering the lack of mobility / freedom (as in not having a car) can be and I was thinking of a friend’s mum who can no longer drive and how she’s coping.
But in the end it’s just me blithering. Sorry about that.
What’s bringing you joy, if anything?