Making Plans. And social media. And other random things.

I am a planner girl.  I love my Dragontree Apothecary Rituals for Living Dreambook Planner. I love the ridiculously long name of it.  I love the color of it.  I love the pages. I love that it’s spiral bound.   I don’t get paid to share that with you, it’s just the best planner out there.  But I should get paid, because half of you are going straight to Google to see what you’ve been missing out on. I know it’s the best because every year I buy multiple planners in search of the BEST one.  I get planner envy when I see a friend with a cool new planner and I have to purchase the same one.  Just in case it’s better than the one I have.  And the good planners aren’t cheap.  I have bought them all.  The Passion Planner, Erin Condren LifePlanner, Law of Attraction, The Desire Map.  The list goes on.  I even bought one strictly because one of the reviews claimed it was the best planner for a “grown ass woman.’  Obviously I had to have it. Because I’m a grown ass woman.  I also have an old school desk calendar.  One of those huge office calendars that lays flat on my desk and covers the entire surface. I also have a small, fits in the purse that I don’t carry type planner. The Dragontree Planner is by far my favorite.  I like to know my schedule.  Shit.  I like to HAVE a schedule.   I have not had a schedule since March 15th. I opened my planner last Friday and flipped through three months of blank pages and started again. Now I am writing every mundane thing that takes time in my day and space in my planner.  All the things I normally just do and don’t need to be reminded of. Vacuuming. Laundry. Grocery shopping. These are not planner worthy things. But it gives the illusion of a full and productive day.   And there really are no pandemic planner rules.
I flipped my desk calendar right past April and May which were never touched. But what’s the point in actually using that one.  It’s my work calendar for planning events and workshops in the studio.  Sure there have been things that I’ve had to do since March.  Places I had to be.  But no real schedule.   That’s completely my own fault since there are routine things I could be doing to keep some sort of schedule, I just haven’t. I’ve let go of Zoom yoga with my teacher, although I miss him and my shala peeps terribly and think about joining every week.  But it’s hard to get into yoga TV and there is usually something that stops me.  Driving my oldest son to work.  Sleeping.  Nothing. Something.  My son has his license now, so that’s not an excuse anymore.  But there are other things that creep up and take precedence. Mostly, I just can’t get my heart into it.  But I will.  It will come back. 
Last week I went to an AA meeting.  The first meeting I have been to in months.  It was outside. And it was lovely.  I forgot that those coffee drinking old men need me.  And the women too, although you never hear me mention them.  I forgot that I have a lot of joy and wisdom to share and it’s much needed in that world.  I forgot that I love A.A. Something else I completely forgot that might surprise you. It surprised me anyway.  I love teaching yoga. When the world shut down, I was completely fine taking a break from teaching.  I considered Zoom, but it is 100% not for me.  So I didn’t. But when I taught that first beach class last month, it was pure joy.  Not that beach yoga is ideal, not for me, but I am grateful to have the beautiful open space.  I am grateful to connect with people in that way.  It feeds my soul. And I am grateful to once again have things to plan.  Things to write in my planner.
Since March, I have felt extremely stuck.  Stagnant.  My “one word” for 2020 is expansion.  How fucking hilarious is that?  This year has felt anything but expansive.  It has felt constrictive and stuck and stagnant.  I have yet to figure out exactly how I am expanding although if you asked me I would give you an answer.  I would tell you all the ways my heart has expanded.  I’m not really sure though. But I have faith and more will be revealed and all of that. I do believe it’s there though.  I just can’t see it yet.
I stopped setting intentions.  The new moons.  The new weeks.  The new months.  They have all zipped past me without the feeling that I needed or wanted to plan, plot or intend for any kind of forward motion in my life.  I’ve read more fiction in these last few months than I have read in years.  I forgot that I love fiction.  I’ve started to work my way through the 25 Marvel movies in order.  I think my husband tricked me into that one. I let him. The superheroes are smoking hot. I’ve been content chilling at home.  I love my home.   But magically, with the last new moon/eclipse/summer solstice energy, I seem to have gotten my mojo back.  Remember, I love it when things magically happen for me.  It’s my favorite.   Forward motion friends.

My fire to write has been reignited.  Not that Covid extinguished it.  I stopped writing nearly as soon as I started back in January.  Mostly because I didn’t think I had anything to say.  But I do.  Maybe nobody wants to read what I have to say, but that’s not the point.   I am writing again and it feels great.  At least for the past week. Nine days if we are being technical. Now to stick with it for just  83 more days until it becomes a habit.  No problem, right?  I wish y’all could hear me laughing.  Laughing because it actually is a problem to make myself get up at the same time every day and do anything these days.  I talk a big game of self discipline is the highest form of self love for someone who is lacking in the self discipline area.  But self acceptance is up there at the top too and I accept the fact that my priorities have shifted.  

We are all learning to navigate in this new world.  It’s not my favorite.  I doubt that it’s anyone’s favorite.   I miss sitting in circle with my soul sisters in the studio.  I miss hugs.  I miss having lunch with my friends.  I miss practicing in the shala.  I miss grocery shopping like a normal person.  I miss thrift stores. That’s pretty much it.  The list isn’t long. I don’t require a lot. My husband would disagree. I like being at home.  I like my family.   Something else I miss is the way people used to be nice to one another on social media.  Those were fun times.  I have such a love hate relationship with social media. Facebook in particular.  Social media has  been  a powerful and positive force in my life.  It’s connected me to so many amazing people. It’s helped my recovery,  it’s helped me build a business, it lets me see what my family who are all far away are up to.   But my God.  People suck right now.  Or maybe they’ve always sucked and I haven’t noticed.  My scroll game is strong and I am usually able to scroll right on past the bullshit, but there’s so much of it these days.   I am mindful of my feed and have carefully cultivated it to be a positive and inspiring place for me, but the ugliness has crept in.  And the people who only acknowledge my existence when they want to make a snarky ass comment.  I can do without all of that.  Life is too short to spend it aggravated with  people who live behind a screen.   Perhaps this is what’s going to finally cure my addiction.  But I doubt it.  Because as much as I would love to completely disconnect, I cannot.   My business needs social media presence.  So  I unfollow.  Constantly.  And clearly I need to do more of it. Not today though. Today my schedule is FULL and I have a life to live in the real world.  After the nap I have scheduled in my planner.

Smooth Sailing. Until it’s not.

And then it happened!  I made a Covid 19 memory bigger than toilet paper!  And there was dancing!  And my heart was full!   Yesterday I hosted a social distanced parking lot dance party.  Most of you saw the pics on my FB page.  I am sure there are people who didn’t approve, and that’s ok.  I wasn’t looking for approval.  I was looking for connection.  Friday was a hard day.  Some days are.  I’ve had plenty of down days lately.  I know we all have. Friday was my worst.  I woke up that morning and went downstairs to my fortress of solitude.  I sat on my cushion to meditate, but instead I cried.   I cried a lot.  A thing to know about me is that I am not a crier.  But I couldn’t help it and I couldn’t stop it.  I’m sure it was necessary and I get that crying is good.  I love when my students cry in yoga, and I love when the women in my circles cry.  I’m just not the one to do it.    I was THIS close to jumping on the blog and writing through it, but that seemed like a stupid option.  So instead, I stayed stuck in it.  And I cried.  I haven’t cried like that since September 9th 2018.  I can’t remember why I cried, but I remember that it started at home and continued during the yoga class I went to that morning.  I was hosting a teacher from Florida in the studio and I was in her class, bawling my eyes out the entire time.  Pretty impressive that I have a timeline, right?

This is where I stop to tell on myself.   Because I live my life on social media and share so much from my heart, I was guessing there must be something posted that day to give me a clue as to what that was all about. I had to make the connection back to the date that teacher was here.  A quick search pointed out the date and down the rabbit hole of my activities log for September 2018 and BOOM.  Here it is.  Of course I was crying.  Also,  I was probably due for another good cry on Friday.  2018 was a LONG time ago.  I should cry more.  You know, if I was down to play that “should” game.  I did have a big crying episode on January 1st during sunrise meditation on the beach.  I bawled my eyes out and even pointed it out to my friend who also doesn’t cry.  I was proud of it and wanted to share it with her.  But, that was all gratitude and full heart stuff.  Quite different.  But sooooooo good.  For the record, I am down to cry gratitude tears any time.

The unhappy cry is the crying I have an aversion to.  Back to Friday where I cried for the first time in a L O N G time.  I think every emotion I have experienced over the past 6 weeks caught up to me.  It was a tough day.  After the tears came the anger.  I’m not exactly sure why I was angry, but I suspect it’s easier for me to be angry than it is for me to be sad or fearful or fully feel all the grief that we are collectively feeling.  And by I suspect, I mean that’s definitely it.  This afternoon I talked with a friend on the phone who spun her woo woo therapist magic on that situation.  She pointed out that my inner “kid” likes to get angry and rebel against…….well, she rebels against all kinds of things, but she definitely doesn’t like to cry.   So she gets angry. I knew that being angry around my family for no “real” reason wasn’t going to be helpful, so I stayed in my fortress of solitude.  My husband came down to check on me.  He NEVER comes into my fortress.  Ever.  He asked if I wanted to walk to the beach with him.  We live 15 streets away from the beach and while it’s totally doable, I didn’t want to do it.  I’m not much of a beach walker anyway.  I’m more of a sitter.  My husband isn’t a beach walker either nor is he the kind of guy that wants to walk 15 streets because it’s good for his health.  Bless him.  He wanted to fix me because all of my emotions made him uncomfortable.  He just wanted me to be ok. Because he loves me.   I eventually got past the anger and settled into a nice, comfortable funk.  I stayed there the rest of the day.  Ice cream and music in the bathtub that evening helped, but more than that, sleeping and waking up to a new day was the real trick.   Saturday was the first time I have seen real people outside of my home, not counting the grocery store, in six weeks.  I know I’m not alone in this and that we are ALL right there.  I know that for me and the women who either showed up to dance in their own (appropriately spaced out) circle, or just sit in their car and watch, it was so uplifting.  Dancing for me is ALL about connecting to that inner child.  That girl needed to let loose and have fun.  Saturday was the soulgasm I needed to carry me through another 14 day week. Who knew quarantine days were gonna be 48 hours long?  I’m really looking forward to the day that quarantine and Covid 19 doesn’t come up in my thoughts, in my blog and in every fucking conversation I have.  Today is not that day. Tomorrow is not going to be that day.  This is where we are.  Doing the best we can. Adapting and overcoming.   I had an amazing 10 am writing group Zoom meeting with fabulous women today.  I’m happy to be writing again. For now. Even if it’s just a bunch of rambling.  It feels good for me to connect in this way.  Last week quite a few new readers found my blog.   The toilet paper blog.  People who have never read my blog somehow stumbled onto that one.  I need you to read that again, slowly,  in my southern accent.  People who have never read my blog somehow stumbled onto that one.   What the hell?   I was almost embarrassed.  Almost, but not quite.  I was dealing with too many other emotions to be bothered with embarrassment.  This week is gonna be smooth sailing.  I can feel it.  Until it’s not.  LOL