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Dear Diary

It's Sunday morning. First waking thoughts - my to-do list. Then, assess my aching hip and phantom discomfort in my gut. Feel a little overwhelmed . Then my thoughts go to whats for lunch. Hmm! I may have to make something. I see my morning slip away from me already. Next thought...I wonder what fun thing I should plan with the boys today. I've been feeling a little guilty about not hanging with them. And just like that, the day is gone, seconds after I've opened my eyes. I hobble out of bed, make my tea and go fill the bird feeder. Its too hot to stay and watch them and calm my thoughts. I head into the studio. No yoga today - hip hurts. I sit at my desk and stare at the painting lying on it.




I ask myself this question I find me asking myself every day "What do I really want?" And I always know the answer. I want to fill a fresh bowl of water, squeeze out some yummy paints and start painting! Will I be painting the art for a show? a project? a client? No. The painting is an itch I need to scratch. A tantalizing puzzle I'm eternally solving. A tunnel I'm digging with a tiny spoon, hoping some day to find myself on the other side. But I can only look wistfully at the half-finished painting. Can I dare paint first? What about those short-stories I need to read so I can illustrate them? that contract that needs to be read and signed? the sketch for the commission? the other project that needs client approval before I can start painting? Shouldn't I tackle those first? Isn't that what they say to do? Take care of the thing you're avoiding most, first? sigh.


So even on a Sunday I cannot allow myself the indulgence of playtime first. Because the voice of doom in my head says 'who knows what tomorrow will bring? Better to take care of things first just in case ... Play can wait. It has to.


Then I tell myself - Remember the days you had nothing? No plans, no projects, no clients, no demands? How that ate away at your mind and body till you were only 90 lbs and your heart raced all day long till they hooked you up to a halter monitor to see what was wrong? What was wrong? I had no plans, no projects, no clients, no demands. You're SO lucky now, I tell myself sternly. How dare you resent it? How dare you wish you could only paint all day?


And with that, the sequence is sealed. I put away my cup of tea and sit at the computer. Some corner of my mind is still whining like a kid who's been asked to finish their homework first before they can play. A tiny whiny voice is saying 'but it's Sunday. Dont you get a day off?' ...And once again the grown up voice in my head reminds me how lucky I am to work from home, to work for myself, to get to wake up late. Day off? Get a grip woman! Enough with the entitlement already. And with a sigh I turn on the computer and click open that email I avoided yesterday.


I hear Buzz pad into the studio, look expectantly at me briefly and then flop down on my couch with a patient sigh. I imagine a patient sigh escape from the painting on my desk too. They both know I'll be with them...eventually...



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