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.
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2 comments:
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.
I 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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