my, what big eyes you have, Grandmother.

staring at behaviours in me that mean something when I look at them as a whole:

  • perfectionism coming to me disguised as self-worth. because I believe I am worthy only when I put myself beyond reproach. 
  • setting ridiculously high standards for myself and self-flagellating when I don’t meet them.
  • resenting others for not helping (when I haven’t asked for help.)
  • fighting off the temptation to cancel self-care practices to meet work obligations.

coming to the gobsmacked realisation that I engineer overwhelm for myself so that I can get the anticipation of the buzz of achievement when I do ‘get everything done’ – while at the same time confirming my deepest darkest suspicion that I am fundamentally inadequate.

pausing in the path that my pencil is upon. starting to see the behaviour emerging earlier in the progression of numbers.

I am drawing a new picture – freehand, now. and I can feel as inexperienced, as engrossed and experimental as a child playing with poster paints.

I don’t know yet what my picture will be, but it will be mine, and it will be as colourful as I can make it, and I will take joy in the process rather than in the mere product.

I will work cheerfully to make the best picture I can, driven by curiosity and excitement, rather than by fear.

what will you paint today?