Again??

 It's the second week of the semester and I've already confused my students with errors in my online posts. Though I tell myself that my public mistakes give them permission to make mistakes, I'm not a big fan of public mistakes. I apologize, I move on, I attempt to do better but, as this post from 13 years ago proves, this dilemma is not news, nor can I chalk it up to age. In fact, it's uncanny how accurate this post, written in September 2013, is on this particular day in 2026.

Sometimes, I'm the last one to know that I'm pushing my limits. Sure, I know I'm feeling overwhelmed and details are getting overlooked -- or perhaps they're staring at me, waiting for me to take action. So, I make lists. I check things off. It looks as though I'm making progress.

Appearances can be deceiving.

For the past few days, signs that I'm not as together as I think I am have been arising in small ways. And then yesterday, I hit the wall. I was much too tired for midafternoon on a Tuesday, and so I decided to be honest with myself and regroup. I took a nap, declared that dinner would be takeout, and got a second wind.

As it turns out, I still wasn't quite as efficient as I thought I was.

I'd sent out an email early in the day -- a meeting reminder I (try to) send out every month. Late yesterday afternoon (post-nap), one of the group members let me know she didn't think it had gone to everyone, so I forwarded it to the remaining members with an apology.

At least that's what I thought I did.

One of the members wrote me back, seemingly in a state of total confusion, unsure of what the details of the email meant. I wrote back. He did, too.

Then this morning, I checked email again. He was still completely confused.

With good reason. I'd sent the email to the wrong person. Right first name, wrong last name.

Sigh.

So, I admitted my mistake, issued another apology and tried not to feel too much like an idiot as I sent an email to the right person.

The thing is, if someone else had done this, I probably would have brushed it off with a laugh. But when I do it, I waste a ridiculous amount of energy chastising myself, certain that others will think less of me.

Perfectionism and pride are dangerous things -- and I'm learning that they often travel hand-in-hand. Who am I to think that I'm so perfect that I can't make a mistake? And why does my pride take such a hit when I inevitably do?

In theory, I understand that mistakes are a part of life, and I know I've learned from my own. But while I accept this rationally -- and even teach this to others -- my emotional acceptance of it is sometimes a long way off.

I can laugh off the email mishap, although I feel awful for my friend whose anxiety I raised with nonsensical (to him) details. But when I make a mistake in an arena where I'm supposed to be the one who knows what she's doing -- as a teacher, or as a parent -- those are the ones that haunt me.

http://www.timothybyford.com/blog_Mistakes_5071

I have long believed that in these situations, admitting imperfection, apologizing where necessary and righting the wrong is the best course of action -- and all we can really do. But while the requisite action seems simple enough, the emotional fallout of being hit with my own mistakes and owning up to them is much less simple.

Because, you see, we're not in charge of other people's reactions. And beneath the pride and perfectionism lies an unspoken fear that this mistake, this minor disruption in the scheme of things, will cause a cosmic shift in another person's level of respect. And there's not a thing we can do about it.

I can issue all sorts of platitudes about how that doesn't matter, how true friends will understand and laugh with us, not at us, and how all we can do is what we can do. And those things are all true. But none of them is a salve for the lingering sick feeling in the pit of my stomach over a mistake that can't be undone.

Mistakes are a fact of life, and life sometimes overwhelms us. And, like pride and perfectionism, life and mistakes go hand-in-hand, making it impossible to eradicate one from the other. So I guess my only choice is to move on, knowing mistakes much bigger than my email mishap inevitably lie ahead.

Not Going the Extra Mile

 Lately, I’ve been noticing that I care a lot less about going the extra mile in some areas of my life -- not the important ones -- just things I used to care about a lot more than I do now. I was a little worried about this drop in motivation, concerned it might signify something more – counselors have to analyze, after all. Why did I suddenly just not want to put in the effort?

Then, it occurred to me one morning as I was folding towels and I noticed that I no longer care whether the tags were on the inside or the outside of the fold that maybe, just maybe I was beginning to practice what I've been preaching. 

Does it really matter where the tags are on the folded towels? Does anyone (besides me) really care? They get unfolded so they can be used, and I'm sure the cabinet shelves really have no interest in where the tags are located. 

In that moment, I realized that what I’ve really been doing is embracing the concept of "good enough," something I've been talking to my college freshmen about for more than a decade. In some of the low-stakes areas of my life, I've rejected maximizing (making sure all the towels are folded with the tags inside) for satisficing (making sure all the towels are folded). 

Though I've had moments where I aspired to be Suzy Homemaker, it was always a temporary goal. I want my house to look nice, but I truly don't want to expend the effort to make it a showplace, nor do I really want to live in a showplace. Having abandoned that pursuit almost entirely, I'm discovering there are many tasks that simply need to be completed, and not necessarily completed to the highest possible standards.

A few years ago, for example, I lost about 35 pounds. Excited by the prospect of a new wardrobe, I put a lot more effort into putting outfits together. Five years later, weight still shed, I find myself perfectly content to leave the house in an outfit I would have consider unfinished -- or even sloppy -- a few years ago. I still put effort into getting ready for work and the occasional evening out but, day to day on my days off, I'm perfectly content to revert to my COVID comfort wardrobe. Leggings and sweats and shorts and tee shirts (and even pajama pants) are perfectly suitable for a day at home.

I'm a huge fan of @justbeingmelani's "We Do Not Care Club" on Instagram, leaving me to wonder how much of this is age, how much is adopting her philosophy, and how much is just being Lisa.

And you know what? Figuring it out is too much trouble. Though I can pull out the maximizing vibes when an occasion warrants something more than good enough, I'd rather satisfice my way through the day-to-day and save my time and energy for the things that really matter.

And most of those things are a lot more fun than folding towels.

Towel image by cnyizhao via Pixabay

When You Least Expect It

 Writing has been a struggle for me lately -- something that's not news if you're a regular reader of this blog. So, when we went on vacation, I packed a notebook, hoping to kick off a habit of writing for ten minutes a day. It was vacation. Surely I'd be inspired?

More like tired. I opened the notebook once. That was it. And the entry was pretty unimpressive. I had little interest in journaling about the day and my mind was a complete blank when it came to "real" writing.

I have never allowed myself to accept the concept of writer's block. Instead, I've believed that when you get stuck, you power through. Though I'm not without sympathy for those who are afflicted, I just never allowed myself to use the label, fearful that something as substantial as a block could become a permanent fixture in my writing life. Sit, I told myself. Write something. ANYTHING. Eventually words will flow.

On our last night in Canada, I packed my notebook in my suitcase -- the one that would stay in the car while we were at our daughter's apartment for one night before returning home. That night, exhausted by all the travel, I spent much too much time on my devices, playing games and checking social media. Finally, disgusted with myself, I set the devices aside.

And an idea popped into my head. And then another. All I had at my disposal was a pack of Post-its. So, I pulled out my ultra-thin black Sharpie marker and started squeezing words onto yellow squares of paper, inhaling the aroma of my chosen writing implement. 

Sometimes, you have to tiptoe past the muse and hope she catches up with you. After that, it's just a matter of finding a blank page and something to write with.

So, that's it? Problem solved? Hardly. But every word on the page is a victory. 

Mom's Magic Ring

 Before my mom passed away, she entrusted me with her wedding ring. It's beautiful -- a resetting of her original diamond with the addition of several others -- and I wear it often.

I especially (and intentionally) wear it when I'm going somewhere I think she'd like to go or visiting someplace she's never been. Most recently, she accompanied my family on our vacation to Niagra Falls and Toronto. On the evening we returned, my husband, my daughter and I were gathered at my daughter's apartment, and I wondered aloud what Mom would have thought of the trip. We were all tired and a bit unimaginative at the time, and didn't come up with much of anything in the way of a reply. As I continued to turn the question over in my mind, however, I came to a few conclusions.

I think Mom would have found the whole idea of an Air BNB a bit strange. Staying in someone else's house? Someone you don't even know? Why would anyone want to do that?

She would almost definitely have not participated in the Journey Behind the Falls at Niagra Falls, especially if she could see it on video for free and not get her hair wet in the process. And, while I think she'd have enjoyed browsing in the gift shop, I'm certain she'd have spent much less money than we did.

An inveterate crossword puzzle fan, I think she'd have liked the bilingual signs in Toronto and would have filed away a few words for future puzzle endeavors.

She would definitely have preferred the nighttime bus tour to the daytime walking tour. But, as someone who used to walk to work in all kinds of weather, she'd have loved the concept of the Path. I don't think I'd have gotten her on the subway, though. 

And St. Lawrence Market? Like her daughter, she'd have headed straight for the bakery.

It's fun to imagine taking Mom along with me on my journeys and adventures, such as they are, but it's even nicer to simply imagine having her there with me through the magical ring she entrusted me with. Someday, I hope she'll let me know what she thought of the journeys.

Photo credit: Wikipedia

Rediscovery

 I am a wannabe artist. I don't want to paint or draw still lifes (lives?). I just want to be a good doodler. I'd like to be able to sketch everyday objects just for fun, to liven up the margins of otherwise dull notes, or to  create little doodles related to the material that illuminate key topics.

Yesterday, I was reminded of my forays into life as an artistic doodler and sketch noter. I opened a drawer to look for a specific notebook and uncovered my archives, the most impressive of which  was a collection of three sketchbooks full of sketchnotes, something I made a daily habit several years ago. Although at the time, I'm sure my perceived errors and missteps were what jumped out at me, yesterday's assessment was that they were pretty good. This was followed immediately by a second thought. 

Why did I stop?

Although the simple answer is that other things got in the way, the truth is more nuanced. I recall getting bored by the nudge to create daily and overwhelmed by the blank page. Then there was technology, mostly in the form of games, always ready to fill the void, while promising to demand so little from me. 

At one point, I moved to a focus on lettering -- I uncovered the books to prove it, right beside those sketchnote sketchbooks. That fell by the wayside even faster than the sketchnoting. I had a brief flirtation with coloring in small, quick hit coloring books, but that didn't really take. From there, I moved on to collages, playing with shapes and colors and words in a different form. That, like the sketchnoting, is something that I still enjoy.

While a part of me is annoyed with myself for dropping the ball, so to speak, I know the fullness of life made other pursuits (and people) rise to the surface. Once I stopped chiding myself, I realized what a gift these pursuits have been. Along with my writing, these forms of creative expression have been not just entertaining, but have helped me embrace creativity in a variety of different ways. 

Stumbling across this treasure trove a few weeks before a milestone birthday nudged me to start a list. Retirement is on the horizon and while I absolutely do NOT want to create a retirement to-do list, I do want to remind myself of some of the things I might want to pursue again and why. I'm sure the list will evolve quite a bit and in many different ways over the next year, and I'm also sure that opening a drawer or a box and re-discovering something will continue to remind me of past pursuits, and to determine whether or not they have a future with me. Maybe I'll even give each of these hobbies a box of its own, stacking them all together neatly as a sort of three-dimensional menu from which I can choose. 

Meanwhile, I'm trying to figure out where these pen-and-paper pursuits fit into my technology balancing act. They certainly pose a more creative alternative than the games I habitually open.

One thing that's definitely on my retirement list (as well as my everyday list) is going through all the accumulated stuff in our house, which includes opening up the drawers and cabinets that haven't yet hit my re-organizing radar. 

I can hardly wait to see what I'll find.

    

Image by Sunrise from Pixabay

Staycation Time

 We got back from a week at the beach two nights ago and I'm still putting the house in order. Part of that is simply the way I work -- tackling unpleasant tasks a little at a time, part of it is the fact that July is rapidly coming to a close and I am seizing moments wherever I can, and part of it is that the house never got fully "back together" after the chaos of having our master bedroom repainted (again -- a casualty of the way I work, and the domino effect that comes with rearranging things in a small house). Meanwhile, my daughter is also home and, given the choice of spending time with her and working on the house, I choose the former. 

Even before our vacation, I decided that some staycation days were in order. Time was flying by and I was afraid I'd wake up on the first day of school wondering where summer had gone, and desperately needing the respite I didn't quite manage to eke out. I typically shift into school prep mode when I flip the calendar to August but, looking ahead, the days between now and the start of school are quickly filling with tasks, appointments, travel, and other obligations. Many of these events will be fun, but too many crammed into the calendar won't allow me the breather I need before I dive into fall semester. 

Enter my magic pencil, crossing out days between now and the end of August, declaring them off-limits to appointments and, quite frankly, anything I don't want to do. These are days during which I'll (theoretically) have the house to myself, days I can amble through at my pace, tackling the "want-to-do" list instead of the "have-to-do" list -- y'know -- a summer attitude. While some of must-do items will likely get accomplished during those days, the sense that I have a choice in the matter makes all the difference in how I feel.

Over vacation, I was reminded that productivity is relaxing for me. I enjoy a sense of accomplishment and it's only when my routine is disrupted that I realize how much I value a certain amount of predictability as well. I don't need to be running and checking things off 24/7 -- quite the opposite, actually -- I just need to finish the day feeling as though I've done something worthwhile. On vacation, that can be something restorative, like sitting on the beach reading a magazine, or it can be something practical, like watching the next video in a class I signed up for, or restoring order to the space we're temporarily calling home. 

Staycation days give me the opportunity to float between restorative and practical and having those days on the calendar reminds me that, when things get overwhelming, there's a respite waiting just around the corner. Powering through the must-do list before those days arrive gives me permission to set those tasks aside for a day here or there, should I choose to do so.

The older I get, the more I realize that vacation is a state of mind. We can be in the most beautiful setting but, if we're tethered to our phones and working against what feels right to us, we might as well be in a laundry room somewhere sorting through socks and underwear. With the right frame of mind, we can vacation anywhere by choosing to restore our sense of peace and well-being and engaging in pursuits that make us and our days a little bit brighter. 

August may be just around the corner, but my road to the end of summer is peppered with staycation days.

Be Careful What You Wish For

 I'm not good at doing nothing and, to be honest, that scares me a little. On the cusp of retirement, I'm feeing as though this is a bit of a "be careful what you wish for" scenario. What will I do when my days no longer have the structure to which I've become accustomed?

Right now, life is often overwhelming. There are too many things to do, too many deadlines, and I find myself longing for a stretch of time to fill in any way I please. So, you'd think a vacation would provide just that.

But here I am, with no pressing deadlines and no looming to-do list, at the loosest of loose ends. When my husband tries to fill the days with activities, I push back, not wanting to overplan this gift of time. But when left to my own devices, I sometimes freeze, unsure of what exactly I want to do. I move from one thing to another, never alighting on any task for long before I'm displaced by dissatisfaction.

Such a rough life, right? 

As it turns out, the balance of routine, productivity, freedom, and flexibility is tricky. Some days call for a lot of one at the expense of the others, while others demand a mysterious mélange that reveals itself only as we move from one thing to another. Change the location, the players, and the expectations and everything shifts, often in a very unpredictable manner that leaves us feeling adrift and maybe even a little grumpy, no matter how beautiful or inviting the environment. 

As I was typing this, I looked around our rented beach digs and all I saw was chaos. Immediately, I had a task -- something I could control. The combination of productivity and the almost instantaneous appearance of clear space gave me the satisfaction and sense of peace that had been eluding me. 

Mysterious mélange indeed. 

I don't know what my post-retirement routine will look like -- I don't even know what the next three days will look like! But I do know that a key ingredient in finding a new normal, whether for a week at the beach or the rest of my life will require a key ingredient I sometimes find in short supply.

Patience. 

Wish me luck.

Cat image (from a decidedly non-cat person because I'm allergic) matched my mood.

Image from photosforyou from Pixabay.com