The second half of my week was, without doubt, an unmitigated disaster.
Today, I woke up and left husband to lie in while I came downstairs to an empty house. Kids have been at their grandparents for the weekend, and in the silence I was able to accept that I never want another few days like those that have just passed. There’s nobody else to blame for the set of circumstances that transpired but myself. Often you can say to yourself ‘but hang on’ or maybe ‘if they hadn’t done that…’ but No. This was all my own fault, 100% blame in my own lap. There was a point very early on Friday morning when some points of disparate realisation finally connected and I was able to grasp that, when all is said and done, evolution only works if you’re willing. All this stuff about improving mind and body is great, but on the days when everything goes to shit, that’s when actions and consequences matter the most. In times past, Friday would have been a fucking disaster area. In reality, things went pretty well. It was certainly an improvement.
However, my ability to help still needs work.
I am truly terrible at doing stuff when I have no desire to even be involved in the process. There has to be less procrastination and more actual effort to clear the stuff on my To Do list that isn’t fun or life enriching. However, most importantly of all, I am terrible when asking for help. Having done so, all the thrashing beforehand was largely pointless, but it has meant that today, at least personally’s been one of the most relaxing Sundays for quite some time. A lot has been done, both at home and online, and I now feel as if I’m ready to do the next week and not make a horrendous hash of anything. I might even get to a situation where I can make headway on the long-term projects that mean so much but seem to always end up being left to one side.
Which reminds me, someone remind me to go set the Sky Box for Westworld on Sky Atlantic on Tuesday night.