on doing things for me
Recently, I’ve been rather flushed with my current job. It’s challenging. Everything feels like a wall I’m banging my head against. Every task insurmountable. Every thought a mountain. Every great idea riddled with holes. R I D D L E D, I tell you.
I spend a many hours every day working for someone else, scheming to make them successful, more profitable. And rightfully so. Honestly, I'm not trying to whine about my job because I do like my job, but I also realize that at the end of the day, it's not the dream. (To be fair, I'm not sure what the dream is yet). I was taking out my frustration at my brother the other day, and he said, “Syd, that’s great that you're helping the business and all, but what are you doing for Sydney?”
So, today, for Sydney, I went on a bike ride through the tucked away parts of the city because it was necessary. For peace. For sanity. For just plain enjoyment.
I’ve always hated the concept of “self-care.” I think it’s over-used and thrown around by people who are trying to use every ounce of your ability and don't truly care that you care for yourself. Like, “oh, self-care is so important, but I need those reports done in 20 minutes.” However, more and more, I’m realizing I have to take time for Sydney. I have to recognize my interests and drive towards them like I’m driving a corvette towards a cliff with a bouncy castle at the bottom.
So, that’s why I’m here now. At my sexy kitchen table working on this blog. This blog is for you, my readers and sweet subscribers, but it’s also for me, because I want to start something of my own and finish it, gosh dang it.
My ballet class? That’s for me. I have no need for ballet, truly. I could put my class money towards something, anything else. But I wanted to do it. I wanted to take 2 hours to myself every week to sweat and almost-curse and be challenged.
Weekly trash pick up? For me. When I tell people I'm unavailable Saturday mornings because I’ll be picking up trash their immediate response is: “Oh you’re so nice!" But am I? Am I really nice if I want to make my neighborhood look beautiful, and walk around the city by myself when it’s still sleepy and grumpy? I love the city on a Saturday morning. It feels like it belongs to me and me alone. Also, a guy gave me a thumbs up as he drove by this past week, and that made it all the more enjoyable.
And now, I’ve started scheming for my next dream. Something totally unattainable with my current salary and college debt. But it’s for me. It makes me happy. It gets me excited though it's completely beyond me. And tonight, when I paste hodgepodge pictures onto my idea board, bullet my ideas in a notebook and research things way, way, way beyond my pay grade, I hope you’ll be doing the same: doing something for you. Read that book. Go on that bike ride. Sand down that old car in the garage. Take that pottery class, goshdangit. Not because it matters, not because you have a justifiable reason, not because you're so-called qualified, but because you need it; to breathe for a moment. To step out of your shell. To feel alive.