The biggest victim with my false perfectionism and it’s related guilt has been… Spontaneity. Yep, that’s the first thing to suffer with my view of the world.
Years ago, while I still lived in Canberra, friend N and I would head off for trips. No real reason, except to get out of town. Usually no destination. One rainy Friday night we’d decided to head to the coast. We began heading east and the further we drove, the heavier the rain became. So we turned around and headed in the other direction. We found clear skies somewhere on the way to the Victorian border. It was a fun weekend. The unplanned ones were always the best.
Even now, even though I can see the problems with the way I’ve always thought, I seem to keep myself under tight control. I seem to spend so much time keeping watch on my thoughts, so I’m less spontaneous. I play less. And really, play is just as important to my state of mind.
Friend N rang me a few hours ago. She was on a day trip with her son to collect some things. They got to the Victorian border, did what they set out to do, thought about how close they are to Canberra and decided… F*** it!
That’s the attitude we used to live by. Her first question to me was… feel like driving to Canberra? Ohh, Canberra… maybe. Upshot, as this post publishes, which has actually been scheduled (I know, shock, horror, hope you’re seated, after the last few days), I’ll be asleep on friend D‘s couch. D thinks we’re totally mad, but isn’t complaining to have his house filled up by interstate visitors who have only given him a few hours notice.
Back tomorrow! *waves* Well, maybe.