This week has felt 14,325 days long. I even had Monday off work, but that feels so long ago, I can’t even remember what I did.
Probably read? Probably cleaned? Maybe went to the library? Who knows?
Next week, I have Friday off to travel to the farm and help take care of some practical things for Mom and Dad. Then it will be August, and I’ll actually go back to working full weeks again (I’ve had a lot of time off in July, which has been nice). Maybe I’ll get to start working from home part of the time in August? Perhaps? We will see.
In the meantime, here are some things that have been helpful to me this week:
This may sound mean, but I’m so glad Nadia Bolz-Weber is bad at meditation. Me, too. But even stumbling at it is helpful, so I do it, even when I do it badly. “Not because after five minutes of breathing exercises the geopolitical situation improves. It doesn’t. But because it improves my spiritual bone density.” Well said.
In a reading slump? It happens. I had a big ol’ slump in April-May-June-ish. I still read, but not nearly as much as I wanted to. I just could not focus. Regardless of why reading slumps happen, though, eventually they subside. Usually. Sometimes they need a little push. Such as a Couch to 5K…but for reading. This is an amazing idea, and I love how detailed the plan is.
I am HEAVILY invested in the blossoming love life of Trenchfoot and Doughboy. Jessica introduced me to them, and I’m so happy. Team Trenchfoot. Doughboy needs to grow up if he’s going to be her baby’s father. Get it together, my dude. Riveted.
I have been planning to write a post about my summer bucket list for about a month. Reading isn’t the only thing that’s slumping in my world. So I’m just living vicariously through Joy the Baker’s lists – Part 1 and Part 2. I may still write my own (at this point, my list is just “Survive August in Texas”), but I also may just make a spin on her peach melba ice cream and call it a day. I think that’s good enough.
Speaking of sweet treats, this is on my list of things to try. It’s took hot in Texas right now to mail chocolate, but there’s a shop nearby that sells it. I feel an adventure coming up soon!
Edited to add: It’s National Tequila Day. Proceed accordingly.
From Wednesday, Season 2: “I don’t evolve; I cocoon.”
I feel this.
Cozy seems like a fluffy word to have as a theme for the year. But it’s essential for me, and that’s becoming more apparent the older I get.
People say you have to get out of your comfort zone to learn. And I see the merit in this reasoning.
One question, though – what’s a comfort zone? That sounds nice. Mythical. Soothing. I bet it’s just delightful.
Do neurotypical people have places and situations in which they actually feel at ease? What’s that like?!
When I think back to the last place I felt truly comfortable – no social anxiety, no worry, no counting down all the things in my head that I had to do before it was over or I could leave – I landed on the trip I took to Cape Cod with Hope and her friend Alison.
Easy mornings where I would drink coffee and write, read, or journal. Then we’d have brunch together and do something fun for the afternoon. Then we’d all meet up again for a long, decadent dinner – sometimes just us, sometimes with guests.
It’s the coziest week I’ve ever spent away from my own home. It left space for spontaneity in ways that I rarely experience. And it was absolute magic for my creative process.
I don’t form habits; I have rituals, and even for my favorite ones, I sometimes need some kind of reminder. For example, on Sunday, I woke up, got a few things accomplished, and then got ready for church. On the drive there, I noticed I was feeling super scattered and grumpy. And then it hit me – I had forgotten to have coffee. Yes, you read that right. Not a typo. I – the coffee snob/addict – simply did not remember to brew a cup. I knew my executive function was wonky lately but jeez. This is why I keep a to-do list posted of how to get ready in the morning. Because on days like that, when I am extra steeped in discomfort, I don’t always remember all the steps.
[Shout-out to coworkers who always remind me to take a break and go upstairs to get coffee at work. Y’all are the best.]
I don’t necessarily even follow ambitions, although I do have a lot of them. My most lasting successes all started in a space I felt free to think and experiment – where I felt relaxed enough to be my full creative self.
I say all of this to demonstrate that learning should follow the spirit of the “out of your comfort zone” rule rather than the literal directive. Essentially, learning requires doing something different. Neurotypical people live in a world that tends to work the way their brains do and in ways they are comfortable operating. In order for their brains to form new pathways (i.e., learn), they have to jolt themselves out of that (i.e., stepping out of that comfort). For many neurodivergent people, it’s the opposite. The world does not work the way our brains do. We are already – perpetually – out of our comfort zone. Pushing ourselves further out of it is more likely to result in burnout and shutdown rather than discovery. My learning process (and I suspect this is more often true than not for most ND folk) needs a soft space to land where my overactive brain can rest well enough to focus on the new thing I’m trying to do.
I need cozy.
And it starts at home.
Making my home cozy for myself inevitably means dampening the assault on my senses. My home right now? Chaos, which reflects my state of mind in this, the yearly Wild West Week that straddles the transition between the old and new year. The chaos in my home not only reflects but also contributes to my mental chaos, though, and I’d like to work on that this year. I can’t control most of what happens outside my home, and there are many elements of rental living that are likewise beyond my grasp. I can, however:
Declutter and adjust lighting and decor to make my space more visibly soothing
Cook amazing food and clean with non-smelly products so that my first reaction to walking in isn’t a shaking of the head and an exclaimed, “Oh! What is that smell!”
Marie-Kondo the textures of items in my home. Even if something is useful, if my first reaction to touching it is, “Nooooo, thank you,” I will not use (or wear) it very often, which means it’s not actually helpful to me.
Make playlists to mask/offset the 14,351 buzzing sounds and background noises that routinely plague apartment living. Green noise is my go-to for this purpose, but I’d like to mix it up a little this year. Maybe even compose something myself.
One thing I really like about cozy as a theme is that it has an element of preparedness to it. Yes, it’s nice to make physical and psychological spaces warm and comfortable for myself and others. That alone is valuable. But the practice of doing so also prepares the space for stressful situations. For example, making my home a cozy place was useful for times when I had to stay there longer than planned (ahem, pandemic and cancer diagnosis). Paying attention to and taking care of my body not only helps me feel more at home in it but also strengthens it for dealing with health issues and other physical challenges that arise. Working so hard on my financial stability this year really came in handy when it was suddenly time to qualify for a car loan in September. Effective therapy doesn’t just help me feel better; it helps me be better.
So this year, I am cultivating coziness in my life. And I am going to cozy up to the things that matter to me.
Cocoons may seem unimportant on the outside (and may just seem like a big blob of mindless goo on the inside). But these cozy little spaces are what help their inhabitants turn into exactly who they need to be to fly.
Before this year, I was terrified to talk about money.
Don’t get me wrong. I was responsible. I paid my bills. I had an average credit score. And to be clear, it was only merely average because I had a lot of credit card debt and a high credit utilization ratio – i.e., the amount of credit you have vs. use (if you use a lot/max out your cards, your utilization is high). And that happens to be one of the top factors that determine credit score. All my other factors were good to exceptional, even before this year.
But I still hated talking about it. And I still felt guilty about it.
Part of that is that my family is so good at managing money, and I felt bad that I wasn’t better at it.
A bigger part of it, though, was that I’ve often taken financial literacy courses and read financial literacy books, and most of them come overcast with a large dose of shame that I don’t already know or haven’t been able to do what they’re teaching me. The prevailing message from experts is that if you are struggling, it’s because you suck at money and it’s all your fault. Because the prevailing agenda of most people who have excelled under capitalism is to uphold capitalism as the ideal at all costs. And they can’t do that if they actually admit the system doesn’t work as well as it should for everyone.
But every system has weaknesses. Every. System. *cough*especiallyAmericancapitalism*cough*
Yet that is the system where I live. So this year, I decided to face my fear. I resolved to set and meet 50 small financial goals to point me in a better direction. I met that goal by the end of May and just kept going. By committing to small, incremental changes, I have:
Raised my credit score by 40+ points
Built an emergency fund
Financed a car without a cosigner
Had some important financial discussions with my dad that I had been avoiding
Stopped feeling guilty about spending according to my values. In fact, I made value spending a whole budget category
Shameless plug time – I did this with the support of Tori Dunlap’s 100K Club. This community was the real MVP when it came to getting past my financial shame and trauma so I could even think about goals. The community is not currently open, but you can get on her email list and get a lot of the same information from the resources on her website and from her book Financial Feminist (which is actually a workbook, so get your own copy or make sure you have a journal handy to write in if you borrow it from the library).
Another resource I like is Moving Beyond Broke by Dasha Kennedy (aka @thebrokeblackgirl). If you are new to budgeting or new to saving or nervous about saving or need regular encouragement, get this book and follow her account.
Just as important as the practical goals I met, here are some things I learned this year that I want to pass on:
I’m actually really great at managing money. I was good at it before this year, and I’m even better at it now. I’ve had to be, because I have never in my adult life made what was considered a livable wage for my area. And yet, I have lived. I have always had food to eat and a home to live in and managed to pay all my bills (even if sometimes the way I had to do it was credit and then find another little temp odd job to pay it off). Turns out, I can squeeze blood from a turnip.
As proud as I am of what I have accomplished, I did not do it alone. I have resources I can reach out to when unexpected things happen, and I have a solid community support system. This is essential. This is non-negotiable. Get yourself in community.
So does anyone who is financially successful. If they try to tell you their success is 100% self-made, they are either incredibly lacking in self-awareness or they are flat out lying to you.
If you are struggling financially and making less than $50,000 a year in most places (more in places with a high cost of living), I guarantee your struggles are not your fault. You are working your ass off in a system that was not designed for even your survival, much less your success – a system that rewards greed and treachery instead of the actual hard work it claims to reward. Let go of your shame, and get mad instead.
You’re probably already mad about it. Focus that mad where it’s deserved – toward the manipulative system and the greedy assholes who blindly uphold it without question – and fight back. This anger has become excellent motivation for me. Every time I want to slack in my goals or spend money on some nonsense that I don’t really want or that doesn’t match my values, I have a little voice in my head that says, “That’s how the oppressors win.” And then I make a better choice. Works like a charm.
Greed is rampant in our society, but if you’re actually worried about being too greedy, you’re probably not. In fact, you’re probably settling for way less than your work is worth. And by you, I do mean I. I am settling for less than my work is worth, and the financial goals I’m currently working on are to help me remedy that.
When I am struggling, it is easy to fall into the trap of trying to find ways to monetize the things I do that bring me joy. It is essential for my mental health and that of my community not to do this. Most things need to remain as gifts to yourself and the world around you. Cultivate generosity and protect it.
Well, that’s more than I planned to share, but hey – I’m clearly less scared of talking about money now. So that’s a win!
“I mean, I just worry… I don’t think about what I want, I just worry about what might happen to me and then figure out how to keep those things from happening.”
“…becoming who you want to be is just like anything else. It takes practice. It requires belief that one day, you’ll wake up and be a natural at it.” Alison Espach, The Wedding People
This whole book was a roller coaster for me, and this was a good year for me to read it. I’m glad it came out when it did.
I live most of my life bouncing between these two goals:
Throwing all my energy into doing what I can to avoid bad things like losing my job (and thus my insurance and all the things I rely on my paycheck to cover) or death
Creating a life that actually feels worth living
I suspect it’s the same for a lot of people.
For the most part, I can trace my best days to the ones when my focus is on more creative aspirations than when I’m just trying to elbow my way through it. The energy required is about the same – I don’t tend to half-ass things, even when they’re not technically my passion – but the reward is far greater when I can see a tangible path toward the life I imagine to be ideal.
Imagine, because I haven’t actually lived it yet. I’m not quite who I want to be when I grow up. I’ve gotten fleeting tastes of the good life and my ideal self but have yet to make either my standard.
It’s a life surrounded by books and bookish people/events. It definitely starts later in the day than my current schedule usually does. It involves occasional travel, but it’s more about creating a life I don’t need a vacation from.
My future self is a person whose default is grace and generosity of spirit (and also resources, as long as we’re wishing for things). She is curious and has the time and space to drop everything for a good story. She is a solid but soft place to land for those who need it. However, when she invites people in, she lets them sort out their own feelings about whoever else shows up rather than doing their emotional labor/conflict management for them (I think this is one of the lessons I’m learning this year).
I love planning for this future self and the life I want for her. I hope they’re both possible, and I hope they’re everything I have imagined them to be.
I’ve gotten a lot of advice on how to take it easy this year. Most of it was wisdom I specifically sought out, whether in reading or asking questions of people who had either gone through what I was going through or at least seemed like they were doing something right.
When I read this quote, it punched me in the gut a little. It was gentle enough for me to be amenable to it but strong enough for me to take notice.
One of my core values is curiosity. I love learning new things. I am fascinated by perspectives and experiences different from my own. I aim to start conversations by being open to explanations and trying to understand rather than by assuming I already know their intentions and have decided they’re the worst.
This practice has served me well. I am more liberal than the average Democrat (Two-party system? More like two sides, same coin) and I live in Texas. I have a lot of…opportunities…to listen to people with whom I disagree. And with many people (not all – some people really are just assholes full of hate), when I listen to them, they let their guard down enough to listen back. And we both learn that we have more goals in common than we thought. They no longer see me as the enemy they imagined me to be.
Changing hearts and minds, one radical conservative at a time.
An echo chamber (wherein you surround yourself only with people who agree with you) is not generally conducive to this practice. My gut reaction to Dr. Walker-Barnes’s advice was immediately no.
Then the curiosity kicked in.
As I read on, I thought about all the places that I carve out in my life where I feel safe. Places where every word isn’t a constant struggle and every nuance doesn’t have to be analyzed and defined. They still challenge me and make me think (because I like that) but they at least give me a soft and loving place to do it.
I see this all over my environment. For example, the picture above was taken in my office at work. I have
Twinkle lights (that need new batteries but still – they’re there)
Pretty bottles and rocks
A nice mix of inspiring nonfiction, fiction, and poetry
Fun stuff for play and art
A visual echo chamber, if you will.
The more I read, the more I wondered what it would be like if at least one of my social media networks was an echo chamber. What if, when I opened the app, I wasn’t immediately bombarded with every snarky, petty dig someone could think to take at people who are doing what I consider to be good in the world? What would that be like?
So I tried it on Instagram. Mass unfollowing. That alone was pretty cathartic.
The days that followed, though? Heavenly. There is so much wonderful going on out there. Did you all know this? I’m a little sad that I missed out on it for so long.
It’s still not all shiny happy news, but it’s very grounding. It’s a reminder that I’m not alone (because in Texas, I often feel very, very alone).
How do you feel about echo chambers? What purpose (if any) do they serve in your life?
Paying closer attention to my writing life reminded me that I may need business cards at some point. I’m not quite satisfied with this copy but it’s close.
For the past 12 weeks, I have been experimenting with the concept of a DIY MFA. I don’t have any career aspirations that actually require an official MFA, but I know that there’s so much that I could learn from such a program that would be beneficial to me as a writer, and I am a big fan of lifelong education. I essentially wanted to outline my own class to take each semester, leaning into the wisdom of others and all the rich resources that are out there to improve my writing. Each semester would be 12 weeks long, giving me three courses a year plus a nice break between them.
So I read a ton of the background info on the DIY MFA website (see link above), created a sort of MFA 101 syllabus (gosh, I’ve missed this part of teaching so much), and jumped right in.
There are definitely challenges with trying to teach yourself something that you don’t already know. There are also delightful discoveries.
If I give myself an honest assessment, I would have made a B in the class I created if I had taken it for real from an accredited university. I accomplished the main goal, which was to build strategies for incorporating the following four elements of a traditional MFA into every week:
Writing (putting words on the page to improve craft, creativity, and productivity)
Reading (learning both what works and what doesn’t from the examples of others)
Community (collaborating with writers/artists, connecting with an audience, and/or submitting/performing work)
Education (listening, watching, and reading things to learn how to do the previous three elements better from people who excel at them)
But I didn’t come close to finishing all the things I had outlined to do. I loaded myself up with articles to read and podcasts to listen to (the plan was to mimic a studying/lecture situation), and I made extravagant goals that, looking back, pretty much ignored the fact that I have two jobs and am not a full-time grad student.
I gave myself a ton of resources to get through and activities to complete every week. It didn’t look like that long of a list when I started, but about seven weeks in, out of curiosity, I added up the time it would take to get through the resources outlined in that week’s plan. Almost 11 hours of podcasts alone, which are not my favorite media by a long shot. Before I started this project, I might have listened to one or two podcast episodes a month. And suddenly I expected myself to dive into 11 hours of them a week? Bless my heart. No wonder I was overwhelmed.
Additionally, podcasts were but one aspect of my education that I was trying to fit in. I also listed weekly writing, reading, and community goals that, if completed in full, would have taken at least twice as many hours than the education portion. This resulted in a to-do list that would have been a heavy load even if this project was the only responsibility I had in life.
It was easy to get discouraged by looking at all I wasn’t getting done every week. Upon reflection, however, the reason this typically straight-A student is pleased with the overall outcome is that no semester in a traditional MFA would have been this packed. A 9-hour class schedule in most programs is considered full-time, because it takes into account that, to do well, you will likely need to spend 3-4 times as many hours outside class, reading and completing assignments, as you spend inside class. I went into this as if it were one (3-hour) course, but the syllabus I created was easily the equivalent of a 12-hour graduate workload. That I finished a little more than half of it means I exceeded my initial expectations.
And I loved every minute of it.
Well, most of the minutes. Gonna be more selective and seriously dial back the number of podcast episodes I listen to each week for the next round starting in January. I just…that is not the life for me.
But it forced me to be more mindful of my goals and how they balance. As a result, I’ve written more in the last 12 weeks than I have in the rest of the year combined. I also feel less stressed about decisions about my involvement with my various artsy communities (specifically, those times I want to do something but need to say no) because I now have a better overall understanding of my creative life as a whole. More of that, please.
I also think having an official textbook for each semester would be helpful because then I can choose additional resources that complement it rather than jumping topics so much. For example, the next session’s textbook is Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, which I have been through once already, but I know there’s so much more to learn there. And Cameron’s book is so detailed that the syllabus will basically write itself.
So this first session was a success, even if it didn’t always feel like it at the time.
June has been a pretty good month, all things considered. I mean, weather and legislation are gross, because Texas. And my dad had to put our dog Lola down, so I’m pretty sad about that. But despite a few storms, rainbows abound (feel free to interpret that in as many possible ways as you can).
Here is this month’s update on my home theme. Enjoy!
I enjoyed this piece by Sarah E. Westfall on The Exhaustion of Stuff – “A home is more than a place to put our things. A home shapes us. It is where we are formed in relationship and, in an ideal setting, feel safe and supported. But when the Stuff™ that surrounds us is excessive or lacks meaning or breeds chaos, those same qualities begin to manifest themselves within us.” Sometimes, I am nostalgic about belongings and keep them even when they’re cluttery because I have feelings about getting rid of them (not all of these feelings are joy. Just…feelings). However, I am currently in a “pitchy” phase – I’m cleaning out closets and being rather ruthless in what I get rid of. It feels so good. I got a take back bag from For Days, and I am having absolutely no problem filling it. I expect it will be ready to send back in about a week. Happy.
One group of items that I have a hard time getting rid of is all those shoes. I love shoes. I love having a lot of choices, even though I typically wear only the same three or four pair. I’ve bravely put some of them in the giveaway pile, but for the rest, I am looking into better storage options so that they don’t just sit in a heap in the closet floor.
The flip side, of course, is that I hope to someday capitalize a little more on what I enjoy doing the most so it can be the thing I do full-time. The older I get, the more creativity is fundamental to my core and my happiness. I’m looking forward to some intensive creative time this weekend and part of next week. Specifically, I am doing my first DIY writing retreat of the year next Monday night through Wednesday night (ish), so I’m finishing up preparations for it this weekend. I have two main goals for this session – to edit and submit the first chapter of either “Fishbowl” or “November” to the Gutsy Great Novelist Page One Prize and to finish Andi Cumbo’s Smash the Myths course.
Finally, I am happy to announce that I have been offered the position of Coordinator for Housing Services! I expect it to be a smooth transition, as I’ll be working with the same team I’m currently on, just with different responsibilities that are more in line with my strengths. Also, I will be moving into one of the offices (and thus out of the reception area yay), so I am spending a lot of free time building my dark academia Pinterest board with decorating ideas. Looking to build a cozy, welcoming space but also make it a reflection of my personal style as much as possible.
“Home wasn’t a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go.” – Sarah Dessen, from What Happened to Goodbye
In exploring the concept of home, I’ve noticed that certain things stand out to me. For the rest of the year, a few of our Friday Fives are going to focus on books and think pieces that have sparked reflections about some of those things.
Shawn Smucker’s piece On the Road Again – “Now that I”m 46, homesickness is more of an ache for the place and the people where I belong, where I fit.” I spent most of last weekend on my parents’ farm, with a brief stint at the cousin’s place to attend a graduation party for his oldest child who is now an actual grown-up. [Aside – WHAT. I swear he was just born a minute ago.] It was so good to catch up with the extended family I came from, and we’re going to need to do that more often. I also really love coming back to Denton after a weekend away, though. Walking into my messy apartment where everything is mine and is just where I left it gives me a special kind of peace.
The Secret of Poppyridge Cove by Rimmy London – Should you use an inheritance to buy a great house that comes with some land and a private beach entrance but that is also possibly haunted and/or frequented by a (maybe) serial killer? I know the “responsible” answer to this fantasy scenario is probably no, especially when the money is not all in the bank account quite yet, but then I had to keep turning up the volume on this audiobook to hear it over my upstairs neighbors and their cute dogs committing the grievous act of walking across the room in their own apartment, so WHERE DO I SIGN?! I am inspiring/torturing myself with a lot of books lately that revolve around the act of buying a home and making it yours (even if there are bumps and possibly corpses along the way). I liked both this one and A Traitor at Poppyridge Cove, and I’m looking forward to the rest of the series.
The Year of Pleasures by Elizabeth Berg – I’m not saying that, when I retire, I’m going to put everything in storage and just drive until I find the town and house I want to live in, but this book makes a good argument for it. I really enjoyed it. Yes, as a couple of the online reviews state, it does read a little bit like a Hallmark Christmas movie (minus the Christmas). But there are so many poignant moments about grief and friendship and delicious food and community that it might have well had my name in the title because clearly it was written for me. It wasn’t just finding a place to land that helped the main character through her grief but also remembering to find joy in small, ordinary pleasures and with the people who showed up alongside her. I could use that reminder myself from time to time.
I love the way Christie Purifoy writes about place. In this guest post, she pursues the answer to the question, “What if our homes could be places that bring us back to life?” I love being at home, but sometimes I’m overwhelmed by the sheer volume of things I want to get done there. I get started with one project and then have to work or be somewhere else, so it takes longer than I would like to make a dent or a difference. But at other times, I look out my patio door at the tiny garden that is thriving, or I sit in my office among my books and glance up to see one I’d forgotten I had, and I’m filled with gratitude for this little space of mine. More of these life-giving moments, please.
How To Keep House While Drowning by KC Davis – This is the book I didn’t even know I needed right now. Usually with advice-laden books, I take notes because 1) that’s my best learning style, and 2) I want a succinct list of highlights to review later. I didn’t do that with this one because it’s short and I own it so I just decided to tab the pages. I have so many tabbed spots. It’s the tabbing equivalent of highlighting the whole book. But at just over 150 pages (if you include the appendix and the acknowledgments), it’s so rich in information. My favorite takeaway is that care tasks (whether for home or self) are morally neutral. You are not a better or worse person/adult based on how much you get done. I want this lesson to permeate my whole life this year. I already know it in my head but my heart and soul take a minute to catch up.
I’m very much looking forward to an easy weekend. Rest. Recoup. Also, dishes and maybe dusting. Putting some of those principles from Davis’s book into practice.
The person with whom I have the most inside jokes.
My “we can fight but if you so much as look at her unpleasantly I will end you” person.
I’m very protective:
(and not at all trying to make her kiss her elbow because MeMaw told me that if she did, she’d turn into a boy. I don’t know where you heard that vicious rumor.)
We grew up here:
With these people:
Lots of room to run, play, make mud pies, stage wedding ceremonies for our cats, chase the dogs, and swing until we threw up.
One of the things I love most about Tammy is her exuberant enthusiasm for all things joyful.
Like good teas from Equal Exchange.
Or a day to binge-watch Disney+
And getting her hairs done.
And Christmas.
And making sure the dogs are clean.
And marrying this guy.
I love our coffee (and sometimes pie) outings.
(KIMZEY’S. It took me this whole week to remember the name.)
She’s the person I call if I need cake and don’t want to eat it alone.
She’s the first person I call when I have good news, because she’ll be even more excited for me than I am. She’s the first person I call when I have bad news, because she already has a plan.
She is passionate, principled, warm, funny, organized, curious, responsible, and diligent.
[Not really related – just happy treats I forgot I had and found at my desk this morning.]
Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, is this week.
I have observed Lent since my early 20s, long before I was a member of a liturgical church that celebrates in seasons. I’ve practiced fasting from certain foods and activities, reading a book or study designed for the season, committing to certain service projects for 40 days, etc. I particularly love this piece from Tsh Oxenreider on why Lent is good for us. All of the ways I have observed Lent have been meaningful for me in some way, and I’m glad for the experience.
Being a part of a church that actively observes the season, though, makes my focus more communal and less personal, which is also nice. We have weekly soup suppers together and a mid-week service. For a couple of the years I’ve been part of this church, the communal observance was all I did, and it was enough.
With home as my theme for this year, a personal observance also seems in order. Part of the way I’m doing that this season is by checking in with ongoing goals, figuring out what’s working and what’s not, and adjusting as needed. This, of course, is a helpful practice in reaching long-term goals regardless of your religious leanings.
Incorporating the solitude that I need with the life that I want is sometimes messy. February has been intense but good. I’ve been a part of three performances this month. Three! I think that’s more times than I performed in all of 2022. And I have at least two more performances coming up in April that I’m excited about.
I like performing, and I want to keep doing it, but that means adjusting in other areas so that I don’t burn out. I’ve had to be extra vigilant about safeguarding my alone time, and I’ve had to be very strict with myself about boundaries between work and personal life. The time-outs have been useful because with so many performances comes extra practice and before I know it, I’m out of clean socks or spoons. Or worse – coffee.
So some of my short-term goals for Lent are about continuing with this year’s focus and resolutions, which were intentionally designed to help me find a good balance between all the things I need and want to do so that nothing gets too far off track. Specifically….
Two extended time-outs a week – This resolution (taking one long break a week) is going so well. It’s the primary reason I was able to perform three times in a two-week period without losing my mind. It’s so effective, I’m expanding it, at least for the next 6-7 weeks (and maybe longer. I suspect longer). A couple of large blocks of time a week are helpful for giving myself the breathing room to be at home in my own life and experience all that it has to offer.
Tidying – Being physically at home with an open schedule more often makes me more aware of things there that need tending to. I’m not sure when tidying became less of a chore and more of a joy, but I’m grateful for that. I suspect it had a lot to do with Marie Kondo’s approach and the example she continues to set about paying attention to what gives you joy and focusing your time and energy on those things. When I know the results of work will be so pleasant, the work itself seems less like an overwhelming drudgery and more like just the way I’m taking to get there. For the next few weeks, I want to spend at least five minutes tidying a different small area of my apartment every day to make it more functional and cozy.
Fun at work – OK, so my work situation is not great. But March is staff appreciation month, which is my favorite month of the year at UNT, and it’s a reminder that even if something is necessary but not a good fit, it still doesn’t have to be a total drag. During Lent (and hopefully beyond), I want to do one fun thing at work a day. Whether it’s taking a long walk across campus, decorating my desk, or attending a Hula dancing program (which I am absolutely signed up for), I want to learn how to make the most of it as long as I’m here.
Money issues – Two of the main reasons money makes me so anxious is that I don’t make quite enough to cover my needs plus a few small joys on a consistent basis, and I am acutely aware of how quickly the little I do make can be reduced or consumed if I’m not (and even sometimes when I am) constantly vigilant about it. To ease some of this pressure (ideally – I’m so very, very anxious), one of my goals for the year is to identify some way each month that I can either make or save more money. That’s been going fairly well, but now that I have a taste of cutting back, I’m no longer wanting to limit it to one a month. So I’m going to rip the bandage off and create a bare-bones budget that I can imagine actually sticking to. I hope to work out the kinks in March-May so that hopefully I have a better budget in place at the start of the summer. I expect that there will be tears as I let go of some things that I enjoy but are just too much right now but also hopefully some relief as, ideally, it will free up some funds to take care of other things I’ve been neglecting.
Setting weekly creative goals, reading a whole lot of books, and strength training are all seeing regular progress, so I’m just going to keep doing what’s working there.
If you observe Lent, I hope you have all the time you need this season. If you don’t observe, I hope you have a wonderful next few weeks that are as stress-free as possible. And I wish a good day to all!
M. Suzanne Terry 