If you read yesterday’s post, you might think I am feeling pretty proud of myself. It certainly looked that way.
And the truth is I should be, I achieved a lot, but for some reason, I find self-congratulation so bloody difficult.
I started the week, as I always do, with positive intentions to do well through the week, but for one reason or another, one by one, each intention I set just didn’t seem to happen. I didn’t really have an excuse, it was almost like I just wanted to go against everything I had told myself I would be doing.
I was feeling pretty happy despite this. I sat in my garden with a cup of tea on Monday and was watching the birds when I thought to myself “This is just what I wished for, being able to sit in my garden with a cup of tea, whenever I choose, no boss to answer to, spending my days writing and managing my own time”
It was a huge realisation and of course a good one. My wish, my manifestation, my dream, is now a reality and I have been so busy trying to push forward that I hadn’t stopped to notice. I finished my tea and carried on with my day.
The following day, the husband and I popped out for some lunch and the thought popped back into my head. I used to have to panic about getting back, I would be getting phone calls or texts if I dared to leave my desk for a break or I would have a meeting put in the diary. I felt a sense of happy relief.
On Wednesday, I went off to my therapy session, thinking to myself that I had nothing but positive things going on. It’s always when go in with this mindset that we uncover something big and Wednesday did not disappoint.
I went in chatting away about how grateful I felt to live the way I am living but as I carried on talking, the talk went from positive to negative quite rapidly. It was almost like I couldn’t possibly just have positive things, something bad will happen, and I felt certain of it. The happy little bubble I was in would surely burst any day now and I needed to prepare myself for this.
I ended the session in tears, which sounds bad but it is good, because its peeling another layer away and once I understand why I don’t believe I deserve to be happy, which is for some reason what I seem to believe at the moment, I can then work on this and enjoy the good times without feeling like I’m waiting for Dr Doom to come calling.
I won’t lie, I felt pretty exhausted after that session, so exhausted that I actually slept in until 9 am, which is not like me at all, but my body obviously needed it. I had a little cry in the morning, for no particular reason and I did some work throughout the day.
In the evening, we took the kids to Scareground, which we’d been to last year and it was really good but I was concerned that I was going to go through a horror maze, get scared by someone and I would cry. I didn’t but I really just wanted to go back home to bed, so I was happy when I finally got there.
Yesterday, I decided that I wasn’t going to let this negativity defeat me, I got up and out for a walk, something I hadn’t been doing as much over the last week. I came back, had a nice long bath and did some writing and then the husband took me out for dinner.
I still have a lot of work to do on myself and I know it will be a bumpy road, but I want to be a better version of myself so it is totally worth it.
