If I’m standing in front of some noodles in Trader Joes, and someone pushes their cart next to me, my first reaction always is, “Let me move this out of the way for you.” This often happens before they’ve even asked me to scoot over.
If I’m in class giving instructions, and one kid raises his hands to ask about something that’s not even relevant, my first impulse is to feel pressured to get that question answered.
If I’m driving my kids to an appointment, and I decide to stop at the post office for stamps, I automatically get this push in my chest to go go go. I know they are just teenagers, and it’s not my job to work around them, but I feel that surge pushing me forward none the less.
I don’t give into this pressure with my actions, but inside it’s still there. An old flame that is no longer a raging fire but still burning with loyalty to toxic patterns. These flicks of negative light are traits that my old self would have called being considerate. But my newer,
older wiser self knows what the real name for this is. It’s lack of self-worth that am not valuable enough to slow down and do something just for me.
Today in class, this point was brought home in a New York Times piece I read about Oprah Winfrey. In it she was saying how guilty she felt buying her first plane. It cost in the millions. But in the end, she unabashedly decided she was worth it. Hell, she’s the Queen. And if she says she’s worth it, she is.
It was my gentle reminder that I’m a queen, too. And queens don’t rush. They are busy, efficient and sometimes short with words, but they are not rushed.
Which is why I am sitting here, happily typing with just my bath towel wrapped around me. The tub water is stopped. My husband has gotten into bed and my kids are eating God knows what downstairs. I am doing what I love most and I won’t apologize.
And you don’t have to either.
Until next time,
Happily Ticked Off Tip #49: Slow down, not just to enjoy the roses, but to make a point that you, my dear, are worth every languid second.
My book is available on Amazon. (Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook.