I now have time
One difference I have noticed about this personal crisis – compared to others – compared to before – is time. I now have time, precious time. Life is moving at a much slower pace than before. What was it that previously kept me in a tailspin of frenetic activities from dawn until dark? Now I have time to enjoy the dawn, the sunrise, the sunset, the valley. I have time to chat to the girl at the supermarket, the petrol-pump attendant, the girls at work. I have time to walk, to read, to be organised, to pay attention to myself, to put jewellery on, to blow-dry my hair. I have time to ring my children, my mother, my sister, my friends. I have time to email. I have time to write. Yet gone is the overwhelming feeling that there are things being left undone, left unsaid. I have this over-riding feeling that all the important things are being done and whatever it is that isn’t being done is not all that important anyway. I am enjoying my time. Time to myself, time for me.
I now have space.
I am revelling in my life becoming less cluttered. I have space for my things on the shelves, in the cupboards, in the rooms, outside. I have space for nothing but ‘space’ on the shelves, in the cupboards, in the rooms, outside. I am enjoying there being just space and nothing in the space because whatever is no longer there was not that important anyway. The space is a sign to me to only fill my life with the things that are really important. I am enjoying the space.
I have people.
I have my children, my grand-daughter, my mother, my sister and brothers, my true friends. I am here for them and they for me. And they love me for being me and no-one else. I have strength and perseverance and respect for myself and for others. I am learning about parts of my people’s lives and souls that I had never known before. I am enjoying my people.
Life is good. Life is great.