Change is hard. I am sure you already know that. I’ve been trying to iniate a change to some of my habits but I keep doing the same things daily. Nothing. No change. So I sit with my discomfort, surrounded with my ever growing clutter. Being a clutterbug doesn’t make me a creative, an artist, a writer. It makes me frustrated, cluttered, clogged, pissed off, frazzled, exhausted. It’s making me sick. I am sick, tired and worn down. But is it enough to make me do different?

Here goes. I’m putting it on record. What is it that got me into this awful goddam mess? I’ve never been this bad before. Life happens and I’m frazzled by it all. What I realize now is that it will not get better. Life happens every minute of every day. I have to accept it and learn how to chill with it. I see that I’m operating in only 2 modes – stagnant and emergency. My brain is stuck in these 2, arrest or fibrillation. It has no rhythm. How will I calm this organ of mine? What can I do?

So here I sit, tapping, an acupressure treatment of some sort. This is my version of  Temple Grandin’s ‘squeeze box‘. I am a hypersensitive person in emergency mode, needing calming. I’m up to the task. It is not my fault but it is up to me to fix it. I am in charge of my body and I haven’t been in it, always seeking escape through whatever route available. I’m often lost in thought, other people’s problems, social media, unrelentless search of knowledge, etc. Often I am not even aware of it, but I am now. I need to come home to myself.

I’ve lost much of my pleasure in doing. So much time and energy spent frivolously on things that don’t mean a squat. I don’t spend much time in physical pleasures, in the sensual, in the slowness of real living, in looking at the beauty of dust mote in sunbeam. I’ve been riding ambulances and firetrucks, chasing emergencies and fires when there was none. It’s time to stop and come back to clean house and home. There will be many times when that siren will wail and I will want to follow. I’m remembering the safety procedures spiel on planes before take off. I’m seeing the oxygen masks dropping down. I know to put the mask on myself first before tending to another. That’s what I will do – BREATHE – before anything else.

I will figure it out. Change is hard. I can change and have. It just feels I haven’t. Tomorrow is another day and I will make another change.