Saturday, March 22, 2008
For the last number of years, my life has become, increasingly, not my life. Due mainly, to the necessary caring for GB's much-loved, ageing and ailing parents. Too much to do, too little time. Too many fragile egos to be nurtured, too few resources. Eventually, too many demands on me, both physically and emotionally.
Life is short. My life, which was not my life, was fast approaching the self-destruct barrier. There was no time. For me. To be me.
So, a little while back, due to an assortment of pressures, I decided to take a short break from blogging and other, precious, pastimes. To make space. To just be.
When your back is to the wall its easy to make decisions like that.
What I hadn't bargained for was how much I would actually miss visiting other people's blogs, adding my own tuppence halfpenny's worth in their comment boxes and occasionally, formulating my own scattered thoughts into something that vaguely resembled coherent ramblings and, then, being rewarded with comments on my own posts! The simple pleasure of just being me. Connections. No agendas.
This realisation got me thinking. Why was I forever giving up things that I liked to do, just to acommodate other people? Was my life not important enough to me?
I am not going to bore you all with the details of my epiphanic cogitations - suffice to say that the "on demand" button has been exterminated. Permanently.
I am, no longer, nursemaid on demand, driver at the ready, gardener in wellies, runner of mindless errands, cleaner of toilets, hooverer of carpets, walker of unruly canines, teamaker extraordinaire, hairdresser, psychiatrist, doormat. The key words here are "on demand". I still do all of these things, just not on demand. Which makes a huge difference in my head.
The Queen is not amused.
In fact, she's a little cross with me. Disappointed and querulous even. And, most of the time, I am strong and do not succumb to the quavering voice. But, sometimes, I do.
Ever since the demise of the button, I am singing. And humming...... and whistling.
And the feet are tapping ... and I feel like acting the eejit, tearing across the fields, kicking my heels up and maybe, even, indulging in a little bit of gadding!
Heady stuff, this Spring air.