to a brand new week. There was a time when I dreaded Monday mornings . . . probably most people do. I would worry about the week ahead and what work I need to do. I would regret that the weekend was over and that my time was no longer my own. I would climb into the car and make the 40-minute trip to work. That drive always made me feel like Superman going into the phone booth . . . I would begin the process of assuming my disguise, turning from Mom and/or Mary into HBIC (head bitch in charge.)
Now Monday mornings fill me with hope. . . a whole week stretches out before me, waiting to be filled with whatever I want to do with it. I make outrageous plans and promises to myself, and it usually doesn't matter much to anyone else whether I accomplish anything at all. Having spent all those years hurrying, harried and hating my life, this is a luxury I never anticipated. When I was young, my dad would say, "Time is money." I totally did not understand that concept at the time. But I do now. You can sell your time, your soul, your life. Sometimes you have to, maybe most of the time you have to. But for the time being, I am saving my time, my soul, my life.
Mary, you perfectly described my many years of that same kind of existence. I have complete empathy for those who are still doing it all. To keep my sanity, I would carve out my creative time wherever I could -- usually on the weekends, but occasionally very early in the morning, and even during my long commute, listening to something inspiring on tape.
ReplyDeleteI think it gives us an even greater appreciation for what we're doing now.
That is a wonderful perspective you have come to. And the piece you posted is equally wonderful as well.
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