Imagine with me if you will: I am sitting here in this private little space, for 5 minutes alone with myself but I will use my time wisely planning and scheduling ahead. I will quickly write up these notes while getting a bite of lunch. The remainder of my lunch break, I’ll go grocery shopping so I will be done with that task too. Next, I’ll fill out part of a questionnaire that must be done by Friday….I get up and arrange my clothes, quickly rinse my hands, glance in the mirror and think…Oh, my hair…I need to make an appointment with my hairdresser but bummer… it looks like straw! It has to be colored first…not this week though, as I have to go to the dentist first and there is no time left… Am I all set…? I launch myself out the door back to the office.
How many steps from here to my office, I wonder as I hurry back. Then a question rises in me: “Why am I in such a hurry? What makes me propel myself like a rocket? Nobody is waiting for me, I am my own boss!” For a split second I slow down but before I reach the door of my office I find myself back in the hurrying-mode frantically trying to identify the right key while cursing having so many keys on my key chain.
I forget my body, I forget my Self. I forget to inhale because I am so focused on squeezing out of my system as much ‘productivity and creativity ‘as possible. Could it be that I am unconsciously haunted by the question “Who am I when I don’t deliver (something)?” Is it really the money that I am after or is that just the excuse? Is it maybe too scary to sit still and face the unforgiving truth that without achievements and others commenting on them, I am not sure if I even exist. Is it too hard to admit that I need mirrors to reflect me and make me feel good about myself. Why? I have since long lost the connection with my own being.
One thing is certain, I have no time to even wonder why I am running so fast, working so hard, trying to be so damn efficient. There is no time to go a little bit beyond my surface self. Who wants to really acknowledge the pain of being of no particular relevance in this world?
Is that maybe why… I believe I have to have this article on paper today and really need to talk to my daughter’s teacher at 4PM. And when I come home I find that the bathroom is a mess and before my mother comes tomorrow I really need to clean it up. Then there is a book that has to go back to the library and I didn’t even finish it. It is a good book so perhaps I can just keep it one day longer and finish it tonight.
As I race to my car, dragging behind me the empty plates and cups that were used during the day I see that I will have a hard time opening the door as there is a car parked too close to mine. I rush to the other side and fling my belongings on the backseat. “Oh, the car needs to be cleaned soon,” is what crosses my mind. With a clatter the plates and cups tumble to the floor of the car while I acrobatically avoid the transmission shift between my legs and my pencil skirt, trying to get over that hump without a rip in my skirt.
Traffic isn’t too bad yet and I arrive in time to the appointment with my daughter’s teacher. I excuse myself for the reason for this appointment because I usually have my daughter do all her homework in time and I help her with her assignments, but this time there really was no way I could have done it. So I had to send her to school with her schoolwork half finished. These days the math they are taught in school is so hard!
Doesn’t a woman have a hard time? She needs to make sure that she looks good, put on make-up and the right combination of clothing and shoes each day. And in my case, I need to go to the dentist so often…that also takes away time and I have to dye my hair. It grows out every 6 weeks and it takes ages for these colorists to do their job while I am just sitting there thinking about all I could have done instead. I could have written that letter to my aunt. She is 92. Doesn’t she deserve it? Receiving letters is her only joy because what else can she do at her age? Or, I could have paid my bills or repaired that little hole in my husband’s sweater. If I don’t do it soon, it will only get bigger and he will have to buy a new one. Or God forbid, I could have finished that book from the library and I could have brought it back in time, so I don’t owe any fee on it.
Much later, as I am preparing for bed, I quickly brush my teeth with frantic strokes. A little voice inside my head is nagging that I should take more time and use some floss… – I do so hate to be reprimanded by the dental hygienist: “You should really floss your teeth twice a day. It is for your own good!” Finally I slide in between the sheets. My husband sleeps in the other room. He already went to bed as he has to get up real early. “I am so tired,” I sigh while desperately hoping I won’t have to lie there very long before sleep numbs me out for a few hours and that not again it is going to be a whole night of tossing and turning….When will this battle, called life, ever end and turn into joy?