I am approaching seventy years of age. This seems almost unfathomable. My body is beginning to show signs of much wear and tear. In fact, it often complains quite loudly with pain in some part of my body almost continually, which I largely ignore. Yesterday, I found that I was so tired. It was not actually me that was tired, but my body was tired. This morning I overslept to 7:15. I generally awaken around 5:30 or 6:00 in the morning, not because I have anywhere to go, but because of my very strong sense of duty. Generally, my cat is relentless when it comes to waking me up in the morning, but he is getting old too, and for whatever reason, allowed me to sleep. As I lay there contemplating the idea of staying in bed all day (something I have never allowed myself to do unless I was seriously ill) I wondered, “Am I depressed?” It was at that point, that I looked at the clock and jumped out of bed.
Depressed, or not, there are things that need doing and I must get them done. This has always been my attitude. I keep myself busy because I simply do not have time to wallow in self-pity. Lately though, my body seems to be telling me to slow down; but my sense of responsibility is so deeply ingrained. I was raised by a militant step-father who would beat me with a belt for not hanging up my coat or forgetting to turn off the light when leaving a room. My great grandparents were Quakers. My grandmother worked hard until she dropped sometime in her eighties. My mother worked outside the home while I was growing up and she would often fall asleep at the dinner table from sheer exhaustion, after we had finished eating. This work ethic apparently is in my DNA.
I want to let go of this incessant and constant busy-ness, to give myself permission to simply be in presence, without feeling guilty. Where does this sense of guilt come from? I have always loved to write and I have dreamed of having a “writer’s life”, but I would not allow myself to simply sit and write because if I was not actually producing something worthwhile and producing income, I feared that I would be seen as a failure, or worse, appear lazy. So, I compromised. I said, “When I get old, I will write.” I have reached that benchmark. I want to sit and write and not feel that it is in some way sinful. I want to give my body time to heal from years of over work and to learn to take breaks and to know that it is okay to rest and relax. I know that if I do not do this, my body may not give me a choice in the matter. Many people have abused their bodies with drugs and cigarettes and alcohol. I have had none of these addictions. My addiction has been doing too much and thinking too much. I vow on this day of a New Moon, to take time often, to become more of a human being.
