Traveling Beyond Wishing

"If wishes were horses, beggars would ride." ... what my mother used to always tell me.


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So the other morning while I walked down our dirt driveway to get the newspaper from the mailbox, I gazed around at the sun and the lawns and bare orchard trees, breathed deeply of country air and thought, "Oh, how I wish that today was early spring. I wish that winter was over and soon the buds on our magnolia tree would open all pinky-purple glorious."

Of course, this little voice inside cleared its throat and said, "Uh, Debra. You do realize that winter hasn't even begun, right? And that wishing will never, ever make Spring follow Autumn? So why waste time and emotional energy and risk discontentment?"

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sometimes Wisdom can be such a drag. :)

Yet of course, he's right.

Speaking of that, I'm thinking that sometime three nights ago, Grace, likely because of my ignorning her, crawled out the window and raced far away into the darkness. All these months since Tom was laid off I've been pretty darn patient having him constantly around the house. But lately! Oh dear, I've been all, nag, nag, nag and complain, complain, complain.

The wishing thing is also tripping me up with Tom's being home all the time.

How? Well, since The Day Our World Changed, poor ol' Debra has fashioned herself overwrought with all the extra work. She's had more dishes to wash, more meals to cook, more clutter to pick up and more laundry to wash (Tom's work uniforms used to be professionally cleaned). And since I'm trying to make and save money in hyper-drive so I can avoid the outside scary workplace, I'm on the computer more often while I complete my surveys, find and print coupons and brush-up on my something-from-nothing skills. Not to mention the extra writing I should be doing for possible income, something I'm mostly avoiding, so it's rather heavy on my mind.

And so, in the midst of all that, plus computer problems (hey, why not?), I've mega-wished that things were as they used to be--but more than that--I've wished I was as cheerfully adaptable as I believed I was.

So. Over and over, I grab myself by the collar and shake myself a bit. When I catch myself wishing, doing the ol, "Calgon, take me away," thing (yes, even escaping to the bathtub at times), I stop. Just stop in whichever room I happen to be and firmly tell myself, "Debra, get a grip. Get proactive. Get a plan."

And then I fix things. For example, rather than trying to write blog posts here while Tom's shoot 'em up tv shows blare three feet away (making me wear headphones with music playing, now hearing gunfire and music ) I, instead, write here while Tom is sleeping. Or away at doctor appointments and errands or while he's quietly reading the newspaper. I mean, why create frustration when I can avoid it?

And when I stopped wishing for my own room downstairs (and stopped complaining that the formica table in the bay window just was. not. working.), a terrific idea popped into my head. Why not create a desk area at our hoosier cabinet, instead? When I need time alone and some quiet, I can pull the pocket doors closed between the dining room and living room, sit at the hoosier and softly play my record albums at my feet. And now I love that area.

Moving some of my workload to 6:30 a.m. Cooking a few meals ahead. Picking-up all day with no words, just (glad) acceptance. Changes, changes. Is the list endless, I wonder?

And yet plugging away at what is bugging me, discovering one solution at a time and creatively fixing what's making me bonkers instead of zapping my mental strength with wishing and nagging (causing more problems)--that's the way to go, I'm finding. For me, anyway.

After all, where there's a will there is a way. My mother used to tell me that, too.