One of my bugbears is always being in a rush. Or, more accurately, trying to cram so much into the little time I have that I end up running about trying to fit it all in. Stressing.
Take this morning for example. I start work at 10. I woke at 7:30. In the time between I have fit in:
- a twenty minute workout
- a shower
- 4 blog posts
- feeding the cats, the dog and the birds
- filling in the work health and safety sheet
All done in a panic because I am constantly against the ticking of the clock.
Why do I do it?!
Though I do feel good when it’s done.
The other week I was at the caravan. My favourite place. I had given myself an extra night there which is always lovely and aimed to leave at around 10:30 in the morning to get back in time for work. To get back in time for work with a little bit of time at the other end of the journey to casually bring my bags in, put a wash on and ensure the dog has a pee.
Of course my mind went into timetable mode and I had allowed myself until 9:20.a.m. (pretty generous if you ask me). That’s right, I’d allowed myself free time to read in bed, chill, walk on the beach and enjoy the last morning before tidying up and leaving.
9:20 soon came around and I had about twenty pages left of my book that I was loving.
Do you know what I did? I took another minute. And you should too, always.
It felt amazing just to say: “sod it I will finish my book, what’s the worst that could happen?” I doubt I’d be late for work. I felt good after having finished the book. That feeling is wonderful and so much more wonderful than shutting the covers with twenty pages left to go.
I wasn’t going overboard. It wasn’t another day or even hour I was giving myself. Just a minute. A short period of time that left me feeling so smug and so fabulous.
Just one minute, always.
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