Day 6
It was a week ago today that I went to my doctor. A week ago that I filled that prescription. It still sits unopened in my kitchen cupboard. I feel proud of myself for the changes I have made. I still don't know how much the changes in my state of mind are attributed to those changes in my habits. I have had better sleep in the last week than I have had in at least 6 months. I hope it continues.
Life has gotten slower, which has helped too. I love the idea of not selling anymore. Just being in charge of one thing, professionally speaking. One less rental property, a dozen less transactions each year, resulting in hundreds less phone calls and texts. Maybe thousands. It would change my life to stop selling.
Writing this blog is helping too. Daily writing. I don't remember the last time I did it. It has been close to 20 years since I wrote every day. So quickly, it has become a comfort again. While it has always been a good outlet, it was an intimidating one in some ways. I didn't write if I didn't feel some kind of inspiration of some kind. This is different. Writing feels like my friend again. The iPad has revived something in me. It seems weird to believe that, but I do. I often think that I just need "something" and then I will be able to spend more time on something. I just need a great big canvas and I will paint something spectacular. I now have a huge, blank canvas and exactly the same amount of paint, still in the tubes. I just need a keyboard and I will learn piano. I now have a great keyboard, a monthly subscription to a piano lesson app, and still have no idea how to play piano. With the iPad, I worried it would be that way. If I want to write more, I need an iPad. For once, the additional tool has really made the difference. I love coming back to coffee shops, sunny windows, calm evenings and letting my mind calm to the delicate sound the keyboard makes as I type. I know that I am probably done with the pen, and while I feel like I should be sad about that, I am not. All of those journals, a lost art. My handwriting was atrocious anyway.
This process, this daily writing is so incredibly helpful. That day I couldn't figure out why my anxiety spiked in the afternoon would have remained a mystery without writing about it. It would have reinforced a belief that it is in control, rather than me being in control. Writing allowed me to take the time and take note of what was going on when the anxiety increased. When I read back on it, the messy house, leaving for the lake the next day, not being anywhere near ready - of course my anxiety spiked. It made sense to me. It seems glaringly obvious, but it wasn't in the moment. Not that those things were stressful, but that they were enough to cause that response. I thought my anxiety should go down if I relaxed. My brain thought that I should be able to just take a breather before tackling it all. But the tasks were too big and the time to do them too short for relaxation. My anxiety, while uncomfortable, wasn't unexplainable.
I am realizing how much everything matters. I realize this more and more the older I get. Going for a walk whenever I have the chance matters. Keeping the house clean matters. That sounds obvious, but if I break it down to putting the couch cushions that Ivy took off back on the couch before leaving, or emptying the dishwasher, or doing one load of laundry, it is each of those things that matter. Taking a knitting class, sitting in a coffee shop writing, making myself a cup of tea. These things all make a difference. They seem so small, but they matter. It makes me realize how much not doing all of those things mattered. You get so complacent. You just get into your habits and don't even consider what you are doing. I really didn't think drinking wine in the evenings was affecting my life. I thought, if anything that it was a nice part of my life, an enhancement. It wasn't. It was affecting my sleep more than I realized. It was taking up energy in my life. It was costing me money. The sleep disturbances were affecting my parenting. It was giving me an escape, but not a fix. I was leaning on it. I knew that, but I didn't realize how much I needed to change it. I'm so grateful to know now.
I am ready to focus on the company. I am ready to find a sustainable way to get to where I want to be financially. I am tired of struggling. Letting go of the properties is a patch. Even selling the cottage doesn't actually fix anything, just makes it easier. If I want to live where I live (which I do) and I want to make improvements (which I do) and I want to pay off the mortgage (which I do), I need to create a different financial picture than my current one. I can't sell my way there. Selling the property's creates the challenge of starting from scratch for retirement savings at 40. Financial freedom needs to come through the company. It's there, we have everything in place to create more income, we just need to build on it now. I'm ready to do that. I'm excited to do it. I don't feel intimidated by it anymore.
Life has gotten slower, which has helped too. I love the idea of not selling anymore. Just being in charge of one thing, professionally speaking. One less rental property, a dozen less transactions each year, resulting in hundreds less phone calls and texts. Maybe thousands. It would change my life to stop selling.
Writing this blog is helping too. Daily writing. I don't remember the last time I did it. It has been close to 20 years since I wrote every day. So quickly, it has become a comfort again. While it has always been a good outlet, it was an intimidating one in some ways. I didn't write if I didn't feel some kind of inspiration of some kind. This is different. Writing feels like my friend again. The iPad has revived something in me. It seems weird to believe that, but I do. I often think that I just need "something" and then I will be able to spend more time on something. I just need a great big canvas and I will paint something spectacular. I now have a huge, blank canvas and exactly the same amount of paint, still in the tubes. I just need a keyboard and I will learn piano. I now have a great keyboard, a monthly subscription to a piano lesson app, and still have no idea how to play piano. With the iPad, I worried it would be that way. If I want to write more, I need an iPad. For once, the additional tool has really made the difference. I love coming back to coffee shops, sunny windows, calm evenings and letting my mind calm to the delicate sound the keyboard makes as I type. I know that I am probably done with the pen, and while I feel like I should be sad about that, I am not. All of those journals, a lost art. My handwriting was atrocious anyway.
This process, this daily writing is so incredibly helpful. That day I couldn't figure out why my anxiety spiked in the afternoon would have remained a mystery without writing about it. It would have reinforced a belief that it is in control, rather than me being in control. Writing allowed me to take the time and take note of what was going on when the anxiety increased. When I read back on it, the messy house, leaving for the lake the next day, not being anywhere near ready - of course my anxiety spiked. It made sense to me. It seems glaringly obvious, but it wasn't in the moment. Not that those things were stressful, but that they were enough to cause that response. I thought my anxiety should go down if I relaxed. My brain thought that I should be able to just take a breather before tackling it all. But the tasks were too big and the time to do them too short for relaxation. My anxiety, while uncomfortable, wasn't unexplainable.
I am realizing how much everything matters. I realize this more and more the older I get. Going for a walk whenever I have the chance matters. Keeping the house clean matters. That sounds obvious, but if I break it down to putting the couch cushions that Ivy took off back on the couch before leaving, or emptying the dishwasher, or doing one load of laundry, it is each of those things that matter. Taking a knitting class, sitting in a coffee shop writing, making myself a cup of tea. These things all make a difference. They seem so small, but they matter. It makes me realize how much not doing all of those things mattered. You get so complacent. You just get into your habits and don't even consider what you are doing. I really didn't think drinking wine in the evenings was affecting my life. I thought, if anything that it was a nice part of my life, an enhancement. It wasn't. It was affecting my sleep more than I realized. It was taking up energy in my life. It was costing me money. The sleep disturbances were affecting my parenting. It was giving me an escape, but not a fix. I was leaning on it. I knew that, but I didn't realize how much I needed to change it. I'm so grateful to know now.
I am ready to focus on the company. I am ready to find a sustainable way to get to where I want to be financially. I am tired of struggling. Letting go of the properties is a patch. Even selling the cottage doesn't actually fix anything, just makes it easier. If I want to live where I live (which I do) and I want to make improvements (which I do) and I want to pay off the mortgage (which I do), I need to create a different financial picture than my current one. I can't sell my way there. Selling the property's creates the challenge of starting from scratch for retirement savings at 40. Financial freedom needs to come through the company. It's there, we have everything in place to create more income, we just need to build on it now. I'm ready to do that. I'm excited to do it. I don't feel intimidated by it anymore.
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