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.