It’s Friday, folks. I’m really tired.
My todo list looms large (it grows all the time; me capturing Action Steps constantly does that) and yet it’s time to make some space, to hold a space open.
I get really anxious if I’m not doing it perfectly, or if I feel others are waiting on me for something (I have a natural proclivity to always have my antennae up to hear if I’m making other people’s lives better) and when I don’t feel 100 percent, I frequently feel worse because I know that I’m not going to be amazing today.
I wish I didn’t tune in so well, truthfully. I was raised to love others more than myself, but perhaps I’ve taken it a bit too far. When you are always wanting to make sure everyone else is okay, it is so easy to forget yourself.
I am holding space for myself right now. The sun is out. I’m wiping down the backyard lawn furniture for storage, dismantling the last of the temporary bookcases as the new built-in bookshelves are about to be installed, finishing PowerPoint slides for a speaking event in two weeks, finalizing handouts to go with those slides, paying bills, mailing paperwork . . . but I am holding space for me in the middle of all that.
Space for me to be. Space for me to fail. Space for me to rest. Space for me to try. Space for me to ignore criticism. Space for me to be kind.
Holding space is really hard for me. I wish it were easier. I wish I could just turn off the signals coming from life around me and sink into what I need. But it’s a muscle. I’m learning.
Holding space is what life is about.