The beauty of our Story Time to me is that it makes me face up to a reality-need weekly. The older one gets, the greater life’s little challenges become.
The Monday challenge is usually confronted the day before or early Monday morning.
This Sunday I wandered around the place in my robe, downing several cups of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal. Seemed like it was decision time to live or die. No not really bad, maybe to just go back to bed and tease my muse for tomorrow’s creative writing.
It was an easy choice—go back to bed. On my way to bed I picked up a book I’d recently been reading. There it laid, speaking to me from its bright yellow and black cover whispering, “Take me to bed with you.” Then my muse and the book’s author started contending for my attention and Story Time’s.
Realizing how much easier it would be to open the book and review the last chapter, I followed the path of least resistance. It was like meeting an old friend at the coffee shop and agreeing about the story and the author’s writing skills.
Muse empathetically nudged me back to tomorrow’s work to be done saying, “Remember Self Acceptance?”
I was reminded of my one time fifty five minute weekly with my Father-Confessor-Buddy, Dr. Ed. Ed’s job was to listen to me babble on for a given time about my self-love/hate relationship, that time period discovering what homosexuality meant and how I fit into that denomination, basic insecurity which used to be known as “inferiority complex” before the new age set in, envy and not measuring up in every way, etc., etc., etc.—
Did Ed accomplish any emotional miracles with his patient? Guardedly I can answer, “Yes.” Somewhat. Or perhaps I grew so weary of all that baggage I dumped it—another word for acceptance.
So now I’ve set my Self Acceptance goals on moving into 28 Barberry Lane with Ms. Anna Madrigal’s other tenants and living happily ever after.
© 12 December 2016
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