Experimenting with acceptance
Currently (as in at this moment) I am feeling somewhat accepting of my relative lack of spoons. Of course, at the moment I can walk a little bit and I'm not in noticeable pain, so that makes it easier. When I'm so tired I can barely walk and my arms ache too much to write or draw, so that literally the only things I can do are watch movies (which I don't prefer) or read a book, it's hard.
But I don't have a migraine, and I'm not in constant pain otherwise, and my bones and teeth and internal organs are all good. And I don't have to go to work every day no matter how crummy I feel. It should be difficult to feel sorry for myself, to be this self-centered when I'm living with someone who has so many more problems than I do, but somehow I often manage anyway. In the US, most of us are raised to be self-centered, it's not a character flaw specific to me.
I want to learn to concentrate less on what I can or can't do today and more on things outside myself, which is what gives my existence purpose in the first place. I am not the center of the universe. Most days, that knowledge is a relief, but it's hard to put it into practice.
The last few days, I have realized (again, for crying out loud) that my emphasis should not be on end results but on the process. This is very hard for me to understand, but what I draw doesn't matter so much as that I keep drawing. When I get there, having written a novel will not be as important as that I am still writing. What I sing doesn't matter, so long as I am singing. You know that saying, Dance like noone is watching? While I am worrying about the watching eyes on my finished piece of art, my novel, my dance, the process of creating it is constrained. Only when I forget about any eventual judgment by me or anyone of the finished work am I free to make what I like, create as I need to.
My current state is also a process; of that suffering in which I can learn compassion, not to mention patience. I am learning to be kind, to myself and everyone else. I am learning to be a healer, and this is the alchemy by which I will be transformed.
Focus on the process, not the results. Be kind and gentle ("for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle"). Breathe deep, smell the clean air. And keep breathing.
But I don't have a migraine, and I'm not in constant pain otherwise, and my bones and teeth and internal organs are all good. And I don't have to go to work every day no matter how crummy I feel. It should be difficult to feel sorry for myself, to be this self-centered when I'm living with someone who has so many more problems than I do, but somehow I often manage anyway. In the US, most of us are raised to be self-centered, it's not a character flaw specific to me.
I want to learn to concentrate less on what I can or can't do today and more on things outside myself, which is what gives my existence purpose in the first place. I am not the center of the universe. Most days, that knowledge is a relief, but it's hard to put it into practice.
The last few days, I have realized (again, for crying out loud) that my emphasis should not be on end results but on the process. This is very hard for me to understand, but what I draw doesn't matter so much as that I keep drawing. When I get there, having written a novel will not be as important as that I am still writing. What I sing doesn't matter, so long as I am singing. You know that saying, Dance like noone is watching? While I am worrying about the watching eyes on my finished piece of art, my novel, my dance, the process of creating it is constrained. Only when I forget about any eventual judgment by me or anyone of the finished work am I free to make what I like, create as I need to.
My current state is also a process; of that suffering in which I can learn compassion, not to mention patience. I am learning to be kind, to myself and everyone else. I am learning to be a healer, and this is the alchemy by which I will be transformed.
Focus on the process, not the results. Be kind and gentle ("for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle"). Breathe deep, smell the clean air. And keep breathing.