A Trio of Sanity Sustaining Strategies
I have found my pivot faster, bounce back higher, chin-up-smile-ON tactics to work brilliantly for parenting, partnering and plate-spinning. The only place it fails miserably is personal sanity. So, I am opting OUT of being a human motivational poster and taking a pluckier approach to personal well-being.
It begins with murder.
I will murder mediocrity.
Not the potential mediocrity of my creative salad dressing idea. Nor the guaranteed mediocrity of my wrinkle-free skin routine.
I plan to murder the mediocrity of my mocked-up limitations. My relentless list of needs: I just need the producer to greenlight the project… I just need the insurance check to come through… I just need the kids to plug into our new routine…
The list goes on indefinitely– always– just out of reach. I run around after it, like a kite tail in a taunting wind. Enough. I’m letting go of catching the bright red kite. The Great Chase is simply my ADHD version of Waiting for Godot. It leads nowhere.
Meantime my actual life is happening all around me.
Psychotic chipmunks and big burly squirrels run stone wall perimeters scouting nuts. No mid-level manager or executive function coach. Clouds saunter and sachay … No choreographer. Blue-jays are back. No invitation necessary.
Finn is two inches taller than me and still wants to snuggle. Leo sits on my bed at night and still wants to talk. Joe still looks at me that way. There are no dress rehearsals. It’s on. I want in. So, I’ll kill off every criminal contraction that crushes my spirit.
Can’t. Shouldn’t. Wouldn’t. Won’t. Beware.
I will not be buried in boredom.
I will pick off the platitudes that trap my imagination. All in good time. Patience is a virtue. Rise above it. Back off. I will execute the catastrophic thinking that backs me into a corner.
I will not drown in defeat.
I will steal inspiration everywhere I can.
Unapologetically. Hungrily. Like a wild unfed child.
Pickpocket Fall leaves for spare change. Pinch possibility out from under a seagull’s clutch. Embezzle beauty from my boy’s smiles. Appropriate wisdom from a random Instagram post about the difficulty of running slower.
I will kidnap metaphor at every turn. Pluck it from unkempt hydrangea beds. Wrestle it from the loving arms of country songs. Extract it from the feathery fringe of dreams. Make it my own and let it translate it my life.
I will manifest in the mayhem.
Not brave it. Or endure it. Or survive it. These strategies guarantee misery. No more running around setting up orange cones around the ankle-twisting ruts and plummet-to-your-death pitches. No more placing guardrails around every last dangerous edge.
Order is for the rookies. Safety is for freshmen.
Life is dangerous. Crazy.
So, I will play in the pandemonium. I WILL fall. Probably far. Potentially into possibility. Possibly into potentiality. Perhaps the ultimate point is less planning– more moonlight dancing on water.