Week Off

I have a long list of to-dos every day. Even though some of the items on the list get done, there are those few that stay on the list day after day, week after week. They stare at me mockingly, knowing I am frustrated that they are still on my list but not motivated enough to actually complete them. Sometimes, they actually get done and then there’s this huge elevation in my soul, at least for a moment. The joy of getting to cross that item off my list. It lasts a few seconds, but those are precious seconds for me.

Last week started really awfully. Monday night I found myself in an exceptionally bad mood, not motivated to do anything at all. I was angry at myself more than anyone else. I hated the fact that I put so many restrictions on my life. The number of diet cokes I was allowed to drink in a day, the list of foods I had to give up. The books I had to read, the chores I had to complete; they were all swallowing me up. I had no desire to do any of them and yet I made lists on Monday and Tuesday morning as if they were going to get done. After another lousy day on Tuesday, I decided to take the rest of the week off. In Jean Little’s wonderful words I decided I needed a rest. From myself.

I spent the rest of the week eating out, ejoying my meals, drinking soda, walking around, taking photos, read when I felt like it and not when I didn’t. I worked as always, but I spent my free time guiltless. I didn’t even make lists. I didn’t keep track of anything. By Wednesday night I was visibly happier. Even my yoga teacher noticed the change. I had a bounce in my step and a different tone in my voice. You might think I am exaggerating, but I’m really not.

The rest of the week was wonderful and I still got a considerable amount done. With the exception of two slices of chocolate cake and a few extra diet cokes I didn’t overdo anything. But I was allowed to. I gave myself permission to mess up, to overdo, to be lazy, to be irresponsible. Permission to not live up to my potential.

And that made all the difference.