Every day, I would drive home from work thinking about what I would write here. Sometimes, I’d get things sorted before I walked in the door. Sometimes, it would come to me as I stood in front of the bookshelf.
Lately, well… since this week… lol … things have changed, and it’s messing up my juju. So, I thought I would explain.
Being a Self-Help Whisperer, you’d think I have it all together. Or, maybe that’s just an expectation I put on myself. Ya think?
In fact, I have some … let’s call them … issues … that plague me. Always have … and I suspect… always will. The edges will soften but they’ll never totally go away. And maybe they aren’t meant to. Maybe they’re just the kinds of things that make me… ME. Ain’t I lovable? Ugh.
Often, the things I write about are as much for me as they are for you, dear reader. I too need a reminder to be gentle with myself, push myself when necessary… and occasionally… to STOP! … and just BE.
So, what is it that happened this week? I joined a fitness club.
But here’s the thing. I need to go after work. Which… yay for me (again!)… but not yay for this blog.
It’s messed with my writing juju… righteously!
There’s a whole “”””thing”””” about this particular club, also. It’s in a small town and the hours are very specific. For example, they’re closed every day from 12:30 to 3:30, except Sunday when they’re not open at all. I get off work at 2 or 3, depending on the day. I have to wait around, but I’m not close to home. There is no club in the city where I live. What kind of tragedy is this? Anyway, It’s in the town where I work.
By the time I get home, it’s time to make dinner, then Murder She Wrote comes on. I certainly can’t write while Jessica is busy solving murders! For crying out loud!!
Then it’s something-else and something-else after that. Bath. Brush teeth. Sleepytime. Unless I fall asleep during Murder. That’s what all the cool kids call it. Just “Murder”… one word like that. I heard Eddie Albert or someone say it on a biography of Angela Lansbury. He said something like, “If you got a gig on Murder, it was nice, easy money,”… you know, something like that.
Blah, blah, blah, blah. Did I mention my arms hurt? They totally hurt. I think it might be the “arm workout” I did today. But I digress.
So, yeah, things have changed and I need to adapt. I do not pride myself on my ability to adapt. Which kind of reminds me of a book on my shelf. It’s called Who Moved My Cheese by Spencer Johnson, MD.
Huh. I didn’t expect to get here but here I got. Might as well run with it.
This book is an international best seller. It’s tiny. It’s mighty. And if I had to sum it up in one sentence, it would be:
Adapt or die.
Change is gonna happen. Then it will happen again.
This little parable about four beings named Sniff, Scurry, Hem and Haw is an easy, fun, enlightening read. And it will help you to not only expect change, but to thrive in it.
Maybe the fact that I’m doing something super-fantastic for myself will translate to something super-fantastic for the cheese. Er, this blog. I’ve gotta move with it.
So, look for my blog posts a little later in the day than before.
And it’s okay.