Flex Hours and working at home

For the past 2 years, my main job affords me flex hours and I work at home. I've learned a lot from this. I am more relaxed when I know I just have to get the work done and there's no time frame during which I need to do it. I can work during my best, most productive working hours and not only am I happier, but the work is of much higher quality than it might be if I were forced to do it within a specific time frame or on days when I'm not feeling up to par. Yes, I have other jobs outside of the home, and yes, I do have to do part of my main job outside of the home as well. But all in all, I am more productive and feeling more successful.  

In addition to feeling and being more productive, my apartment is cleaner, neater, and more organized. I never have to spend hours cleaning because I've been out all week and only home to sleep. I can multi-task as well. For instance, I can do my laundry while working on a project. I can have a phone meeting while driving to meet a friend. I can also work anywhere--bonus if there's a wifi connection, but I can get work done in a coffee shop, a library, or even while visiting friends and family out of state. 

I am very lucky to have a job such as this one. It's very fitting for my circadian rhythms which make me a night owl and not a morning person. It challenges my Type A personality sometimes because my schedule is never the same twice in a row and can change at a moment's notice. I've learned that those are small prices to pay for the life I have now. By no means, do I live a perfect life, but I'm much happier than I was while teaching 20+ classes a week, having evening commitments, and just trying to keep my head above water. 

I am grateful. 

Corraggio!

Courage. I sometimes have to muster up the courage to say things. I have a difficult conversation coming soon and I've finally decided I can do this. I might cry, but nobody will die and it will all be fine in the end. I think. It is with great trepidation that I need to tell someone that I can no longer help in the way I've been helping for so many years. I know I will be letter that person down as well as the group of people this decision affects. I'm torn but I'm also tattered. Sometimes it's good to take care of ourselves and although we feel we are disappointing others, it's better in the long run because we can recharge our batteries and come back refreshed later on. This is me trying to convince myself it's all going to be ok. Sigh.
I hate letting people down--or even feeling like I'm letting people down. Most of all, I hate letting myself down and in this particular situation, I feel that no matter what I do, I'm letting myself down. If I continue, I let myself down by doing too much. If I stop, I let myself down because I feel like a failure. Why can't it just be easy? Why am I so sensitive? Ack.

I will have courage. I will do this. I'll let you know how it turns out. 

It's good to have plans

It's good to have plans. A friend of mine said that and it stuck. Although it started out as somewhat of a joke, it became my mantra. I'm a planner. I plan everything from what time I need to get up in order to exercise, shower, dress, do my hair and makeup, caffeinate myself appropriately so I don't get arrested...or worse(!!!), and get out the door on time or early to when I'm going grocery shopping and doing laundry. I like having a plan for every day and every moment. It keeps me grounded and keeps me motivated. I do admit, however, that sometimes a long list can be overwhelming. I try to break it down into smaller parts so as well as prioritize the tasks in case I can't get everything done. If there's something I can put off until tomorrow without having a complete meltdown (I told you I was Type A), then I'll do it. 

In addition to having a calendar with my plans for each day, I am a list-maker. I like to make my lists in order of priority and also sometimes even with exact times of day. For instance my morning routine looks something like this:

6:15 get up
6:20-7:20 exercise
7:20-8:00 shower, dress, hair, & makeup
8:00-8:05 make bed and straighten up room.
8:05-8:45 coffee, breakfast, check email, social media
9:00 leave for work (the 15 minutes before are spent gathering everything I need to bring with me and finding my shoes. Yes, finding my shoes is a big thing. Even for me.)

If it's a work at home day, I would include my cleaning routine for that day right after breakfast. Also included is washing all dishes and putting them away. 

On Thursdays I do laundry. I usually work at home that day, so in it goes in the morning while I'm doing my cleaning routine and starting my work. If I have to work outside the home on Thursday, I do laundry Wednesday afternoon or evening after work. I give myself credit for being that flexible. Ahem.
All laundry is washed, dried, folded, and put away immediately.

On Friday, I go grocery shopping. This usually happens after I've completed my cleaning routine for the day. Fridays are also often a work at home day so this affords me flexibility.

That's the skeleton of how I keep my life running (sort of) smoothly. Perhaps I can go into more detail in the next installment. Until then, dear readers (if there are any!), enjoy whatever you're doing, wherever you are.

Have a very purple day!

Saying Goodbye

When someone dies, there's a hole in the place in your life where they used to be. It never goes away and it never gets easier. It gets different. Recently, a new hole came into my life. 
I feel as though I'm too young to have lost as many people as I have. Over the last several years, holes have formed where people in my life once stood. It's a weird feeling--inexplicable to say the least. Unsettling, unnerving, and deeply saddening would be a few ways to describe this awful void.
Today I officially say goodbye. I'm trying to think of how to say goodbye without it's feeling like it's forever...only it is. The curtain is closed, then removed to reveal a hole. A hole of nothingness. 
Over and out.
Caidil gu la laddie...sleep the dark away.
Rest in peace, my good friend. 

I Shall Keep Singing (Credit: Emily Dickinson)

I shall keep singing. For a while, I thought I wouldn't. I thought my time was up, the glory was over, and the time had come to hang up my choir outfit and turn in the music. 
This is exactly how I felt at the end of the chorus season. I was burned out, bummed out, and just ready to call it a 20 year ride. But suddenly, as I was standing on stage with my fellow singers, looking out into the larger than usual audience, I remembered why I do this. There is nothing in the world so satisfying and emotionally wonderful as singing in a choir. The music we make is not possible to make on my own. Also, I realized in that moment (yes, as I was singing) that it's more than the music. It's the people who create it with me. It was at that moment, I realized, that while I may need the summer to recharge my batteries, the thought of leaving all of this behind caused tears to well up in my eyes. I'm looking forward to singing in the Fall with my beloved chorus. Sometimes we all need moments like that.

I shall keep singing!
Birds will pass me
On their way to Yellower Climes—
Each—with a Robin's expectation—
I—with my Redbreast—
And my Rhymes—

Late—when I take my place in summer—
But—I shall bring a fuller tune—
Vespers—are sweeter than Matins—Signor—
Morning—only the seed of Noon—
             -Emily Dickinson

I've always loved this poem for many reasons. I discovered it first when a composer set it to music as a tribute to our late artistic director who lost her battle with breast cancer. She never wanted us to stop singing--not even when she could no longer conduct. She believed in the hope of morning and she loved yellow. Even though the taste of evening better suited me, she taught me to love and hope even in the early morning hours.

Years later, after a rough time, this poem means something more. I stand a little taller, stronger, and more confident that, yes, I SHALL KEEP SINGING. It's a beautiful thing and it fills me with joy I can't find anywhere else. I've cried tears of despair but now I cry tears of joy. Tears that let me know singing is vital to my very existence. And not just singing--but singing in a choir. 

And that is why I continue this journey of song with 49 or so of my friends walking with me and hoping with me for a better world--at least in our corner.

Trials and tribulations

I started this blog as a way to express my Type A personality and love for routines in a world where things are often chaotic and not to my taste. I've drifted into another realm, but when I think more about it, it's really the same thing. I feel upside down and out of control and I crave that feeling of security found in routines, knowing what to expect, and always feeling prepared. Lately, my emotions confound me. I am surprised at my reactions and responses to what are usually small annoyances. Suddenly, I feel my blood boiling and I explode with words I hardly ever speak aloud. I am unable to regulate my emotions and my interactions with people are unexpected--often way out of character for me. It's as though my insides have come out--everything I think inside comes flying out at the world. Very unsettling.

I am working hard to remedy this and by doing so, have become acutely aware of my words. I choose them carefully both in speech and ESPECIALLY in writing where people can't see my face or hear my voice. Email has become something to fear. Will I say it wrong? Will someone interpret something that isn't there? Should I use a different word? Put a smiley face so they know I'm happy? The anxiety it causes is too much. I retreat back into myself where it's safe. Sort of. Except that I'm afraid. Very afraid. The highs are high and the lows are lower than ever. I see a light at the end of the tunnel, but it's a long journey from here and I have to be patient--not something I'm particularly good at.

When You're Not Invited

Despite my best efforts, when it comes to being on the A-list for events, I don't usually make the cut. I see happy pictures on social media of people I thought were my friends having a great time at one place or another. I see people who I didn't even know were friends of the host(ess) and I start to wonder if I'm oblivious to the fact that I am persona non grata. I thought I had wonderful friends and people liked me. I was wrong. I need new friends but when you're "of a certain age" it's not so easy. Everyone has their group of people. Everyone has their tribe. And they don't need a newcomer. Sigh. I guess I could repair the friendships I thought I had, but it's hard to repair what you didn't know was broken. 

Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will ALWAYS hurt me. 

Left out.