The Empty Room

The other day I was sitting in my living room with my two friends, Judy and Sue, who make up my writing trio.  We take turns meeting at each other's house for dinner once a month and this month it was my turn.  I made salad with pears, walnuts, blue cheese and mustard vinaigrette. Then I served spaghetti. Then for dessert, we had cherry cobbler with vanilla ice cream.

Comfort food eaten in front of the fireplace on a cold, dark, autumn night when we all needed a little comfort.

I told them a little bit about how over-whelmed I was feeling. How I had way too many obligations to do things I simply didn't want to do. How I had no time to work on my writing, which was the whole point of rearranging my life and maintaining a writing studio.

My friend Judy suggested this:

Think of my life as a room.  Imagine taking everything out until it is completely empty. Then, after much consideration, start letting things back in - but only things I truly love and feel passionate about - nothing can come in if "obligation" is the only thing it has going for it.

Later, after they left, I did quite a bit of thinking about this.  What exactly would I let back into my "room?" Family, of course, writing and managing writing programs at my studio, teaching at the local college and occasional volunteer work.

What didn't make the cut?  Committee or board work of any kind. Intense sewing to deadlines. Freelance work for somebody else. Projects or events that require me to do the planning.

Tom and I have about cornered the market on being helpful over the years - we want to have a period of time when no one counts on us for anything (except our family).  No one should plan on us attending any function or managing any problem. I don't want commitments or deadlines.

We just want to work on our own art and plan our lives around that.  Once I got that figured out in my head - it truly felt like there was a light at the end of the tunnel and I should be able to make it to next summer, when the timeline for our commitments comes to an end.

Things are looking up!

Restless

I'm feeling restless.

Suddenly all the things I've loved to do for years are just too annoying to continue.

I'm tired of quilting, I'm tired of all my writing projects, I'm tired of volunteering. I'm tired of my hair, my clothes, my shoes, my house. I'm tired of this place I have spent my whole life and will likely spend the rest of it until they put my boring, adventure-less body into the ground.

I want to never go to another meeting. I want no one to count on me for anything. I want to throw caution to the wind and buy a whole new wardrobe. I want to get in my car and drive without worry about where I'm going and if I'll have enough money when I get there.

 I want to buy beautiful expensive shoes and not have them hurt my feet. Perhaps they would even look like the ones I show here. These are the shoes of a baby who will never be boring or invisible. She will dance through life and travel the world. She will never be stuck in the same place, following some pre-determined life path. I have never owned a pair of shoes that could do that for me.

I know that half the secret of being happy and content with life is to make the conscious decision to be that way. But what happens if the time times when, no matter how optimistic a person tries to be, it just ain't cutting it?

I had such high hopes for accomplishing so much with this life I have - I felt sure I was on that path - but right now I feel in serious danger of going out with a whimper and barely a sign that I was here.

And if I feel that way now, in November, what's it going to be like in February in the dead of winter when it really feels like life will never be interesting again?

I think I'm in attitude trouble.