I finally vanquished the constant chatter of fear in my head, and now I seem to be able to get more done. I show up wherever I think I need to and do what needs doing, often without listing it on a to do list. Yesterday I cleaned out the downstairs closet in need of a good purging for years. Today, I cleaned some windows and did some collaging.


As I’ve hired someone to do so biweekly, I no longer have to clean my house completely. I have no more allergy shots nor any other medical appointments, so my days are freer. I am not volunteering currently as covid’s lockdown showed me the meaning of peace. Now I can say no. And my kids are more self-winding these days.

This leaves me with an almost disconcerting amount of surplus time. I recognize that real actual time to do whatever I choose without feeling panicked or rushed is a blessing. Yet, it’s both a blessing and a curse. Because, while I can now be proactive and intentional about planning of my time, there’s a little more of an expectation that what I produce must be glorious.


This available unclaimed time is a perfectly lovely time to be creative, to work on projects, and to do the rest of my chores of shopping and laundry without being overwhelmed.Faith in the Possibility of Not Compulsively Doing on Shalavee.com


But I am not used to this freedom. It freaks me out a little.


As many others, I have always been a doer. I based every last bit of my worth on what I accomplished. And as it was never enough, I accomplished an alarming amount of productive work which I never credited myself with. With my over productivity as a norm, how can less productivity be a good thing?


I owe the shift to both the right amount of anti-anxiety medication and the forced strike I enacted against my compulsive doing this past Summer. Prior, I’ve had moments where I felt the righteousness of rest because I was sick. But this pause was very intentional.Faith in the Possibility of Not Compulsively Doing on Shalavee.com


As I enacted my mindful strike on productivity, I began to disprove my theory that I am what I do. My self-worth doesn’t depend on what I’ve accomplished today. I finally truly believe that. I find myself with almost more time than I know what to do with. Having opened up my schedule and my mind to the possibility of future time, I also recognize that this has always been possible. Kinda like replacing the mean husband with the nice one and having my kids, I just had to have faith in the possibility to create it. And then hold the faith until it became real.


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