Hello, all! It’s the end of February, the last full week of the month, and I’m just now getting to post a blog. The funny thing is, I’ve been planning to write about having patience with yourself this month since December. Little did I know how appropriate that topic would be for my own life.
The month started with the expectation that I would publish Season Five of the Adventuring Together series my friends and I do biannually. We’ve been bringing free flash fiction anthologies to your e-reader for two years now, and it was my turn to make sure it was published properly. This was the first time I had ever published a book on my own, and I was STRESSED.
The first two weeks of the month were almost entirely devoted to gathering twenty stories, formatting them, proofreading them, compiling, and uploading the ebook to stores. I hit one setback after another almost the whole time. But, when I saw the book on my Kindle, I cried. All of my hard work had paid off and it was beautiful!
And then the unexpected happened. One of our precious fur babies of nine years passed on. Even now I get teary as I write about it. The Thursday after the anthology launched, a great sadness fell upon the house, coloring everything I saw and touched, said and heard. That little guy was always patient with us and rewarded us with lots of purrs when we followed his lead. Last week was probably the hardest of my life to date. And I’ve had some pretty crappy weeks. But as I told my former roommate, I never have to live that week again.
Why am I telling you all of this? Because now that we’re at the end of the month, and I’m past the celebrations and shock of loss, I’m finally catching up to the other parts of my life I’ve let slip. But I’m tired and don’t want to do anything that I should or want to. I want to sleep when I should write, my brain goes foggy after just doing a few things in the morning, unable to do anything else the rest of the day, and I feel like I’m doing the minimum every day.
I don’t want to use the past two weeks as an excuse for my perceived laziness, and I shouldn’t. But the truth is, I can’t just go on with the rest of the month like nothing happened. That’s not realistic, it’s not healthy, and it would be lying to myself and everyone around me. Therefore, I must have patience. Yes, I acknowledge the struggles of the past week, but it doesn’t define my new week, only explains it.
That’s an interesting way to say it, right? I wish I could take credit for the saying. I first heard it from my former university pastor almost ten years ago. He gave a sermon on King Josiah found in the Old Testament of the Christian Bible (the exact books escape me), and how his past started darkly, but he didn’t allow it to influence his reign. His past explained how he became king at nine years old, it explained why he had no family left, it explained his determination to do better, but it didn’t define his expectations. He didn’t use it as an excuse to become evil or prey on others’ sympathies. He didn’t become a victim of his family’s sins. He just lived.
I’m not going to allow my past week to define this one or the next. It explains why I’m sad more often than not, why I sleep more than I should, and why I’m getting overwhelmed more easily. But it’s not an excuse to wallow in self-pity and indulge in destructive behaviors. I have a wonderful family and friend circle that is helping me get through the sorrow, but I’m also part of that circle. I have to be present for those who are hurting as well.
I want to clarify, I’m not pushing myself beyond my limits. I’ve had to learn how to work with my body all my life. So, I’m careful to listen to it and make sure I’m still taking care of myself. Sometimes that means doing a different task than I probably should have been doing at the moment. Sometimes it means taking a thirty-minute nap. There is something rejuvenating in doing the tiniest of things. I mean, I would love to take an eight-hour nap, or just sleep for thirteen hours. But seeing as I can’t, I will take the little thirty or fifteen minutes where I can.
That’s something else I’ve been learning lately. For years I always wanted large chunks of time to devote to a difficult task. I would put that task off over and over until I couldn’t anymore just because I wanted four or five uninterrupted hours to work that was impossible to find. It caused me some trouble in college. But now that I work as a tutor who only meets with her students for fifteen minutes every day, I’ve seen the value of short windows. I’ve seen what can be accomplished when I just do something, even for a few minutes.
That’s part of being patient with yourself. Maybe you’re angry that you want more sleep, or you’re angry you haven’t gotten to watch YouTube all week. But, you don’t have to watch that twenty-minute video in one sitting. You could watch it in two, giving yourself that sorely needed break where you can get it. Maybe when you come home from work, instead of starting dinner immediately, take a thirty-minute nap. Maybe you just need to close your eyes and listen to one song on Spotify. Really listen to it, don’t multi-task while listening. Sometimes you need to slow down for five minutes.
Having patience with yourself means recognizing your limitations and needs and working with them. It also means understanding that you’re not a robot or a superhuman. You need to give yourself space to mourn. You must allow yourself to celebrate. It’s okay if your output isn’t up to par some days. Just be sure your input can match it. And remember, your past doesn’t define you, it just explains you.
I will have a short story for you this month, and I’ll be sure to send out my monthly newsletter before the month is over. So, be on the lookout for those. In the meantime, why don’t you do me a favor and make my stressful week worth something? Go download your copy of Adventuring Together: A Flash Fiction Anthology: Season Five. It’s completely free to do so!
Thank you for reading. I hope and pray you have patience with yourself. I know our precious fur baby would want you to do the same.
~Beth
P.S. The cover photo for this post is a tribute to our fur baby Phillip. He was sassy but loveable. I know this picture purrfectly captures his spirit. Imagine Phillip telling you to keep holding on, to be patient with yourself as you are with others.
Beth Freemont 