Tag: slowing down

Finish Your Sentence the Right Way

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 10 Comments

You know — there are days when I would post 2 or 3 or 4 times if I let myself.

There are others’ blogs I’d like to share, new Galleries I’d like to showcase, photos I’d love to show you, topics I’d like to yammer about.

But I can only take me one day at a time.

It’s not like I know a whole lot about anything. I am one of those who dabble in a dozen things at one time and am neither an expert nor a consistent follower in most. But how can one not want to share other’s creativities? 

I get so excited when I see other blogs and the things they’ve created. The thoughts they’ve had. The discoveries they’ve made. And I want to show you what I’ve found.

I’m sure what I see and experience is only the tip of the iceberg out there. But it’s the seeing and experiencing that wears me out.

When I look from the outside in, it all looks quirky and fun and a little bit on the wild side. Who wouldn’t love to have this much enthusiasm for sharing?

But looking out from inside, I’m exhausted.

Like I said in last week’s blog, I’m Too Old To Be This Busy, this “do ten things at one time” makes me tired. Makes my brain tired.

Working 9-5 used to make me tired. Raising my kids made me tired. Now running on creativity makes me tired. I know it’s not some blood disease; I work closely with my doctor to make sure all my meds are in line and appropriate. 

It’s the mental chatter that sometimes drives me nuts.

Write a blog! Find a new unique artist for the Gallery! Create a page for your crafts in case you ever sell them! Figure out PayPal! Take some product pictures! Call your friend to see if she got the job! Make a ledger! Read some blogs!

See what I mean? The list is endless.

I’m not really complaining. As a matter of fact, I’m excited that others are finding their rhythms and doing their thing and being creative while juggling a dozen other tasks too. Like I always say. I LOVE creativity. No matter what you’re creating, editing, fixing, refinishing, making, crocheting, painting, I love that you’re doing something. 

I just need to calm down a little and share things one at a time. Do something and complete something. I can’t leave dangling participles out there looking for something to modify. 

And just what is a dangling participle, you ask? Here’s a few from Thought Co.:

  • Oozing slowly across the floor, Marvin watched the salad dressing.
  • Coming out of the market, the bananas fell on the pavement.
  • She handed out brownies to the children stored in plastic containers
  • I smelled the oysters coming down the stairs for dinner.

If my mind doesn’t slow down soon, I’ll be doing all of the above.

In triplicate.

 

 

 

Why Can’t We Slow Down?

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 10 Comments

tumblr_ln6ma5pk1i1qkmpj8o1_500Do you ever have times/days/weeks where you are fumbling so out of control you finally have to stand still and say STOP?

I don’t know if it’s a symptom of (self-prescribed) A.D.D., but I constantly find myself in swirling situations where I’m turning and falling and rushing and not finishing.

And I can’t take it.

The other day I dropped something. I bent to pick it up and hit my head against the table leg. Then I stood up and dropped it again. In turning to reach it I swiped all the paperwork off the table and into a raining mess. The raining mess knocked over the stemmed wine glass with a trace of milk still left, breaking the glass and spilling milk all over.

I had to stand still, close my eyes, and count to 10.

Then the reprimand begins.

Who drinks milk out of wine glasses anyway? Why didn’t I just do the dishes and wash the glass when I was finished? Why are all those papers on the table anyway? Why aren’t you paying attention?

One time I was running a little late for work; stepped out of the car in the parking lot and slipped on a slice of ice right next to my door. Those bruises have finally faded.

Why didn’t you leave for work earlier? Didn’t you see that patch of ice when you pulled in the parking space? Don’t you watch where you put your feet when you get out of the car?

It’s like I’m moving through time and space too fast. Keeping up at work and keeping up at home is a non-stop travelogue for me. I find myself forcing myself to slow down. If I don’t, I get bruises from car doors, misplace my glasses and/or keys, lose earrings and other items of jewels — all kinds of stupid things.

Where am I going in such a hurry? What ever happened to stopping to smell the roses? Watch a sunset? Watch fireflies? I know I have to slow down. To think before I do. I’m not as flexible as i was 20 years ago. And I’ll wind up in the hospital if I’m not careful.

It’s just that with (self-prescribed) A.D.D. I feel at times I can’t sit still for 5 minutes. I’m either itching or swinging my leg or flipping through TV channels or snacking. I’m always afraid I’ll be left behind if I don’t get it all done. That I’ll be standing at the end of the driveway waving goodbye to everyone else because I couldn’t get ready on time.

This is especially true because I’m older. Every forgotten thing is Alzheimer’s; every hesitation is senility. Every broken glass is old age; every pain is cancer.

Although I do believe you can’t do everything, be everything to everybody and still keep your sanity, my unconscious mind is trying to prove different. It thinks that if I keep going at 150 mph, I can outrun the grim reaper.

Maybe it’s time for a speeding ticket or two.

 

Old Age = Fine Wine = Pfffffttt!!

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 5 Comments

This beginning-of-the-week blog is mainly for those of us getting up in years. Not really UP there yet, but holding onto those clock hands, trying to slow down the pace to the future. OUR future.

I have been having a few “feeble” moments lately, and, frankly, my dear, I do give a damn. I don’t like it. I catch myself groaning and moaning and rolling my eyes whenever something needs a little extra effort. Now, I know I’m not in my 20s…or 30s…my energy level has changed through the years. But I catch glimpses of this little old granny, bent over, shuffling, mumbling, into the future. And I can’t go there. Not for 20 years at least.

How do you train yourself to pick up the pace, so to speak? I don’t mean jogging around the block or acing a calculus test. I mean — how do you find your bearings, your confidence, when you’re short and round?

I have seen many women who have aged gracefully. Hair, eyes, shape, all have held up pretty well through the years. I have never been one for beautiful anything, but I have managed to stay married for 35 years, so I must be doing something right. But it’s those same connections that seem to pat me on the head now and then and say “Don’t worry. We’ll slow down/simplify/avoid confusion for you.” Which does nothing but piss me off.

I understand that if I were physically encumbered, others would (hopefully) want to simplify my world. I may hold a grudge against everyone healthier than me, but I would understand. If you can’t do it you can’t do it.

But at this moment I CAN.

Maybe my knees creak and I get weird pains in my shoulder and forget to turn the lights off when I leave or can’t hear someone because they’re mumbling, but I’m not on my way to the glue factory. I am still a viable part of my community, my family. I hold a fairly decent job, I am a writer, a blogger, and artist. I can keep up with the best of them when it comes to grand kids, dogs, friends, and grammar. I’m not ready to take the back seat to the future.

I think the older you get, the harder it is to garner respect. We are older and wiser, yes, but we are also the “older” generation. We don’t always have the keen insight and quick reflexes of the younger generation, hence encouraging condescending nods and smiles from the quicker-picker-upper crowd.

Is this an age thing? A woman thing? Or not a thing at all? Do you second guess your abilities? Your alertness? Your ability to reason or figure things out? Have you given up on your looks? Your style? Your ability to swing?

I always thought those concerns would be less and less as I got older. Seems like the old insecurities never go away. They just change color and hue.

The point of life is to not give in, not give up. To live your life with a bit of caution and a little grace and a lot of humor. It took 40-50 years for this hair to thin, for this writing career to take off — and I’m not done yet.

I’m aging like fine wine.