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Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Being Kind to Myself

Great White by Terry Goss
You’d think this’d be an easy thing. Right?
OF COURSE I’ll be good and forgiving and supportive to me! If I don’t do it, who will?
Heh, here in Realityville, most (if not all) of my chums are a whole shit-ton nicer to me than I am to myself. I’ve always been my hardest judge and critic.

Fer instance, yes, I need to get regular exercise and I generally do. Missing a day or two at the Y is no cause for alarm and mondo excoriations. For the most part, I’m not a lazy old soul. I often feel akin to the Great Whites – if I’m not in constant motion I’ll die. Getting myself moving is usually not a major deal but why let that little truth stop my self-maledictions?
Side note: I began worrying and wondering. How/when do the Great Whites sleep ? Or, ya know, can they ever take a chill pill, kick back and watch Roadrunner cartoons or whatev? I asked Mr. Google and yes they can (the report was unclear though – Great Whites may prefer Bugs to Roadrunner. More research is obvs called for).
Why have I neglected my Y time this week? I’ve been doing serious housecleaning. This wasn’t just simple redding up, no. I was doing the penultimate transformational bits on The Amazing Bob’s study. It is now a real live guest room. There’s a sweet little desk in there now, rugs, a dresser and a nice futon. Paintings cover the walls. I reviewed all his papers – boxed and set aside the important stuff like his poetry, a diary and other random floss. The rest was binned (such as his older brother’s passport. Phil’s been dead 15 years now. I think it’s safe to part with it.)

Cleaning really should count as exercise. I Googled it and got mixed answers.  A little yes, a little no but mostly, it depends. *sigh*

All I know is that I was and still am exhausted. I realize this is also emotional exhaustion.  Sorting through/reviewing TABs papers, giving away his desk, getting rid of his rickety particle board bookshelf, mutating his study into a cozy little guest room feels wrong at the same time it’s right. I, seriously now, thought for a sec, I need to change this back. What if he comes home tomorrow. Yeah, I immediately slapped myself silly, he’s dead you dim fool. Dead, as much as I wish it were otherwise, canNOT dance and my beautiful, brill man ain’t comin’ home.

I’m trying to find balance. Moving on and mourning. Living my life and honoring the one I had, that I shared with the incomparable Amazing Bob. Unlike Keith Carradine, this ain’t easy.

So then, I’m done with the metamorphosis action for the week. Today I’ll return to Y central – take a water tai chi class, swim a few laps, spin on the elliptical for a bit and hopefully send my mind on a mini-vaca.

Also too, that canvas on my easel isn’t gonna paint itself. Time to dive into the acrylic and oil stick pool.

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