Writing about Writing (about Writing)

It's  been a while since I've posted but I have been writing a lot lately.  Most of it has been stream-of-consciousness writing where I type what comes to mind, that whiny crapola that clutters mymind-space throughout the day.  Some of it is in the form of letters to people with whom I'm not happy or even letters to God.  I find that my thoughts unfurl when I put them on paper and things that seem scary or overwhelming in my self-talk lose their power when out of my head and on paper.  

Yesterday, TIME magazine posted an article challenging stressed out, anxious people to write for 20 minutes, for four straight days.  Just write about what's bothering you.  Then last night, in a weird moment of inspiration, picked up my copy of "The Artist's Way" that has been sitting on my nightstand since literally last Christmas.  My housekeepers dust it every two weeks and put it back in its pile!  But last night, I felt free enough to "go there" (I'm not sure where exactly "there" was, but I was willing to be challenged).  The book fell open to page 176, on a quiz about whether to tell if you're a workaholic.  Chuckling to myself, I skimmed the questions and suddenly realized that this might not be a coincidence.  

Busted.  

It was a sobering mirror into which I viewed my disordered work habits.  One sentence after the quiz put my struggle into words and is helping me articulate it...Workaholics only think they are worthwhile if they are working.  And so we work all of the time, without ceasing, without ever looking up from our email or work-based communications.  

So that's my confession here...it finally dawned on me that I am a workaholic.  I've been joking about it for ages and my family would probably laugh to read this.  They're going to be like, "finally!  Crazy girl!" I've been sensing this for a while and even asked one of my good work friends (I only have a few people I trust at work) to schedule me in yoga with her so that I am obligated to go.  My boss even told me a couple of weeks ago that I should really get out of the office no later than 5:30 p.m.

5:30 seems so early...

But I'm willing to work on it.  What's one more step in my identity tour? 

That's why I'm writing more, working all of these things out in my head.  It's funny; my aunt and I were talking about my crazy existence at Thanksgiving and she asked what I REALLY wanted to do (sensing that hospital admin might not be my forever path if I'm already this stressed).  I answered without even thinking, "a writer who writes at my beachhouse after a morning walk on the sand."  So I'll keep writing...just without the sand!

The other two reasons that I am considering all of this is because I received a high blood pressure diagnosis the other week.  My doctor is giving me three months to shape up and get my BP under control or else.  "Else" means another prescription.  My diet isn't that bad and we're not too heavy on the salt shaker...so 98.3% of my problem is stress.  

The other reason is because I finished Aquinas!  The last year has been awful, terrible, frustrating, and so time-consuming.  As I sat in church for mass this morning, I realized how much more I DO know about Catholic dogma from my friend St. Thomas.  I know why the Church teachings are structured the way they are and how the early Church fathers shaped them.  But MAN.  I lost a year of my life.  As I completed the 4-hour final essay exam early this morning, I felt a tremendous burden lift from my shoulders.  I have not done anything on Saturday's for the last year since that was Aquinas Day!  Yesterday, my studying complete, I exercised and went shopping.  I kept marveling, "Wow, this must be what normal people do on Saturday!"  Ugh.  But it's over.  The exam was not fun and I am not feeling wonderful about it, but it's complete.  

Adoro te Devote.

Thanksgiving was a beautiful holiday this year and the best in recent memory.  We did most of the cooking on Wednesday night and packed away the food in disposable aluminum pans.  On Thursday, all we had to do was make the green beans and heat up everything else.  The family who wanted to be there was present and there was no drama.  We laughed until our stomachs ached when we broke out "Cards Against Humanity."  Oh, don't judge; it's a horribly inappropriate game.  But with a glass or two of vino, it becomes more acceptable.  I haven't laughed that hard in years.  My family just cracks me up.  Jack and I drove back to Indianapolis with full hearts and joyful spirits.  

Wonderful holiday, Aquinas is complete, and I've got three months to fix my BP.  Hopefully, the joy I'm trying to allow into my heart will temper the BP a bit!