Crappy Weekend Morphs Into Terrific Tuesday

sandstone and wild flowersThis weekend I spent much of the time moping around feeling bored. I’d gone into it with a pile of things I wanted to do for my business but didn’t do any of them. As a consequence I felt rubbish.

It was like I wanted myself to do stuff I didn’t really want to do and then ended up feeling bad about it.

Bonkers!

It’s not like I’ve got a boss breathing down my neck or any deadlines to meet. It’s me making up the rules.

I was pleased with my progress during the week and wanted to continue that into the weekend but before I knew it I was down the perverbial rabbit hole. Lots of unhelpful thinking as to why I wasn’t doing stuff and how I always end up back here and how I’ve not really achieved anything at all this year and how this living from the unknown stuff doesn’t work or I obviously don’t get it well enough and on and on.

Then to turn the knife a little more I watched a load of marketing videos by some people I haven’t come across before who are young, energetic, raving extroverts who are doing stuff that I wanted to do 10 years ago but never got round to. And now I’m thinking I’ve missed the boat, it’s too late for me, you’ll never be successful because you’re too introverted not to mention too old and out of touch and on and on.

No wonder I was feeling low by yesterday evening.

Happily, it didn’t last long because I know this is just a load of thinking that doesn’t mean anything. I’d got caught up again in old patterns.

This seems to be an inherent “danger” with “moving forward”.

I settle into living in the unknown pottering along quite nicely and then things start to happen.

Then I get ideas of how I can make it happen faster or better and off I merrily go.

Then things start to stick a bit and I start applying rules about the right way to go about things in order to move things along again and, next thing you know, there’s an awful lot of thinking going on and not much flow.

Then I get fed up. More thinking. More stuckness. More thinking. Until I notice I’ve taken control again.

Which is where I was this morning when I wrote this email to a friend of mine who’s on holiday at the moment:

Subject:  Really feeling old now!

OMG! Where are you when I need you? (Having a fab time in Cornwall I hope!)

I seem to have drifted into the parallel universe of Jo Barnes, Michelle Holmes, Brandee Sweesy, to name but a few, and I’m feeling ANCIENT!

All these young, vibrant, women out there doing their stuff (loudly!)

Is there a place for introverted oldies in this online world?

I’m exhausted just watching them. Think I’ll have to go and make myself a nice cup of Horlicks! Except I don’t like Horlicks!

Bloody doomed. That’s what I am. Or . . . maybe there’s an opportunity here . . .

Hope you’re having a brill time and look forward to catching up on your return – if I can make it to the phone with my new zimmer frame which I’m sure I will have purchased by then!

Got to go. It’s time for my morning nap.

 

Call me self-absorbed but I found myself feeling very amused and . . . there I was. . . back in my playful self. Ready to get stuck into not knowing again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ain’t life grand?!

P.S.  If you’re feeling a bit mis when you’re reading this . . . JUST STOP IT!!! Ha, ha, ha!

2 Responses to Crappy Weekend Morphs Into Terrific Tuesday

  1. Well it sounds a bit baffling.Perhaps your you are looking for guidance…
    check it out. tut.com I get notes for the Universe and I’m reading his book Leveraging the Universe…good stuff

    Thoughts become things… choose the good ones! ®
    © http://www.tut.com ®

  2. Hi Carole

    Yep. Baffling is a good word to describe it and there’s nothing wrong with that unless I think it’s a problem.

    Baffling feels good when I’m open to the mystery of life. It doesn’t feel so good when I’m thinking I should have it all worked out and know where I’m going when I don’t.

    I also enjoy notes from the Universe especially the P.S.

    Thanks for your contribution. I appreciate it.

    Love
    Gillian

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