Have you ever turned yourself over to a particular struggle on a regular basis? Well, now that it is May and both taxes and license renewal are completed again, and I have regained my general equilibrium in life—for today—I will tell you that every two years in March, I hand myself over to struggle. I struggle with the last steps of gathering information for our federal income taxes, as well as finishing—or this year beginning—the thirty education credits that are required for me to renew my license to continue with my counseling practice. License renewal comes along with taxes every two years on a consistent, you-can-count-on-it, regular basis. It is not a surprise. Long ago I attended various trainings for counselors and meeting my CEUs was not an issue at all. When March rolled around I had already completed the necessary trainings. In recent years, though, I’ve been doing most of my credits online, which means that I am the one who does the scheduling, which is why I find myself in this struggle. I leave it until close to the deadline. This year, though, I took a good look at what was going on with me…besides putting things off for the last minute dash.
As usual, I did remind myself that I managed to complete both of these requirements ten years ago when we were renovating our kitchen and re-configuring our living room at the same time as taxes and CEUs! That year all the paperwork I needed to keep track of for each one was lined up in neat stacks on the back of the piano, the only place in our living area that wasn’t being regularly moved to someplace else. At that time, I would take a stack, and search for a perch to work on it somewhere in the construction zone. Yes, I was telling myself frequently, remember that you got it all done that year. And yeah, yeah, I apparently answered myself, what do you know anyway? This time could be different…and then what?! A thought followed with feelings of fear and worry.
Of course, I did get the tax information to our accountant by their deadline. And I did finish my CEU classes and take the tests and get the results reported to the necessary state agency, and renewed my license, even a week ahead of that deadline. Sigh. And I wondered then, as I frequently do, why I had been so stressed out about the process? What happens to me that I would give myself over to that feeling?
That’s when I realized—again, maybe for the millionth time, at leas—THIS IS A HABIT. Well-practiced and perfected. I have this habit of hanging out in the world of overwhelm, being afraid of what might or might not happen, and winding myself into a massive dither, a painful struggle with all of the self-doubts and fears. I remind myself—again—that whenever the words dither, struggle, fear show up for me, it is time to pay strict attention, the same kind of attention I would use to keep a child safe. Those words going through my mind are signs that I have already landed in Overwhelm, the hangout place I have perfected over many years. I do not like it there. AND I DO NOT HAVE TO DO IT ANYMORE.
Feeling overwhelmed, I have learned, serves no useful purpose. It gives me nothing I want. It does not help me finish what I want to do. And in fact, the struggle actually takes away my energy and the calm that could be my supportive friend in whatever I am doing. The truth is that I have known this fact for some time, and then I keep forgetting, mostly, I think, because the feeling seems normal. It is time for this habit of overwhelm of mine to be cut out of my life, and be one of the outtakes of this story. Although this is not done anymore, I am picturing pieces of film cut from a reel of film that tells my story. This section is superfluous. Cut it out!
I think easily of two other instances of my life where I have learned something by just calling to myself: “Cut it out!” The first one is from several years ago when my two older grandsons were maybe between three and five. I keep a bowl of red and green apples on our living room coffee table, and when these boys were old enough to be aware, they would come into our house and almost immediately each grab an apple to munch on. Then they would take a few bites, put the apple down, and forget about it, as the apples would turn brown and get soft. This bothered me. I had been taught about waste of food and waste of money and starving children myself from a depression era mother. That made sense to me. I didn’t want my grandchildren to be wasting food or money. And what of the starving children? It took me awhile of thinking about this and being upset about the apples at the same time that I loved my grandsons and working out the options available until I realized that this was not who I wanted to be as a grandmother. And one option always open to me is to make changes to be who I want to be.
The reason the apples were there on the table was that I liked their beauty, red and green piled together, creating a sense of full abundance. I also liked that my grandsons knew that the apples were there for them whenever they came. And as for the starving children, which please know I do not take lightly, I also knew that those children were not affected by what happened to apples in our home, not one way or another. What I also realized as I thought about this was that I do keep flowers in our home. Those flowers do not last forever, and I did not consider that wasteful. The flowers added more beauty, beauty that enriched and inspired. That is not a waste in life. And so gradually, very gradually, my thinking started to change. More outtakes collected on the film room floor. Out went the teaching of lack; in came more appreciation for beauty and abundance. And I really liked the grandmother in my movie now. That’s the one who had such joy when her grandsons came and knew that they could have and enjoy apples there whenever they wanted. (As an aside to this story, the boys also did grow older and have now eaten the whole apples for a long time…and frequently more than one! We have also added oranges for our middle grandson. The boys know and expect this at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. I am certain that is a memory that will remain with them, for which I am grateful.)
Now, on to the second experience of calling “cut it out!” A recent one. My husband had made us a wonderful long metal pole to hold two bird feeders. And when a squirrel figured out how to climb those 12 feet to the feeder he liked, my husband put a baffle on it that has successfully kept the squirrel away. Then when we decided to put two bird feeders hanging from the rooftop in front of the windows by my computer, we expected them to be safe from the squirrel. But no. After some tries, this squirrel found a way to jump from the small, shaky redbud tree to the roof and then crawl upside down on the chain from the roof to the feeder, and feed in whatever position he could find. If you’ve had more experience with bird feeders and squirrels than I have, you are surely not surprised. At first I was annoyed. But then I noticed that after the squirrel fed, the cardinal came and fed from what the squirrel had dropped below, and seemed to like that way of getting his food. My annoyance easily became part of the outtakes on the film room floor, leaving me with the enjoyment of how nature works outside my window. Everyone was getting fed. (I have an aside to this story, too, but I will save it for another time.)
I am seeing that thinking of myself as the director of the movie of my life gives me the longer view that my actor self in the movie cannot always see. And as the director, I can decide to “cut it out!” whenever I choose in order to make the story the best possible one. I’m thinking that I might find several places to cut out some pieces. Why just last week, my husband and I had a couple of disgruntled verbal exchanges that could have some parts cut out to make a better, more satisfying story for both of us.
No big self-recriminations here. No harsh judgments. Only some decisions about where I would call “cut it out!” not to/at a person, but in the film. It might be kind of fun to consider my life this way. What outtakes would I choose. When will I call “Cut it out!”? This is only an experiment with many possibilities. Would you like to join me? We could be light about it. Have fun with it as we see where fun seems possible, which is frequently more often than we might imagine at first.
As always, I finish with love in my heart for you as you read here. I like having you in the movie with me; I’m definitely leaving this part in…
Diane
🙂 xo
Dale
Thank you, Diane. I do know that you are “there”! XO
Debbie
Just what i need to hear this morning. I love you Dale and the gift you have always seemed to bring into my life.
Love,
Debbie
Dale
Ahhh, Debbie. I am so happy that this musing fit for you when you read it…no doubt reminding you of what you already know. Your love is always that gift to me, too. Thank you, my dear.