On Saturday night my car did a very inconvenient thing. It died just after I left the house for a date with a seriously beneficial person. Undeterred I grabbed my bag and walked the four or five blocks home. I made sure my car was dead in a legal overnight spot and grabbed the keys to my mom’s van. Onward.
While making the drive to the date I preached to myself. I have been ignoring my intuition in the area of finances. My intuition has been correct, but I have not liked what it has been saying. Instead I’ve been begging the universe for more time or for mercy. Looks like time ran out! Some deep cuts, as the politicians say, will have to be made; some tough choices. The sermon I gave myself was about all that and more deeply about disallowing myself to feed Pippi Snotstockings.
Pippi Snotstockings is the name that was given to the part of me that is all about instant gratification, selfishness and petulance. She is the one who ignores car repair expenses while allowing holistic healthcare expenses. She is the one who blurts out whatever is on her mind while pretending that words don’t linger. She can be fun, but is more often damaging, especially in the long run.
So I recognized the issue, owned it and came up with a solution. Every time I hear the voice in my head that says “I don’t wanna….” I’m going to say to it (her) “I don’t care.”
“I don’t care that you don’t want to go to the gym. I don’t care that you don’t want to wait. I don’t care that you want something right now that you can’t afford. In the long run what you get now will not add to the long term health or freedom of this family I’m raising.”
On the heels of this very grown up and certain-to-be-challenging sermon came an idea. The idea is based on the fact that I am a writer not writing. I’m not writing for myriad perfectly good excuses. Despite the tidy effectiveness of the excuses they are not helpful or healthy to my growth. I want to add “I don’t wanna write” to my list of things Pippi is no longer in charge of. I don’t have time, it’s true. My life is extremely demanding on me, it’s true. My resources are limited, it’s true, but so what? It’s never going to be a good time to become a better writer and every day I let pass without writing takes what practice I have given it away from me. My ability to construct sentences and stories diminishes. My knowledge of grammar diminishes. All of it. Couldn’t I write just a little every day? Even if I write a post about doing things I didn’t want to do, even if no one but me reads it, at least I’m here getting better. At least I’m here using the gift I ask for the most in my life.
They tried to bury us. They didn’t know we were seeds. – Mexican Proverb