I was late, again. One hour getting up later than scheduled means one hour less time for me to have my own quiet time. Usually I tend to do everything very fast in order for me to get something done. My heart races, my hand shake.
“Oh no” I said to myself. Me and my panicky. I feel my mind and my body working too fast. I paused and took a breath.
Every time I worked too fast, my mind automatically said “stop”. It means I have to pause and then continue what I am doing. either washing the dishes or pruning the leaves, slower. And if I feel my pace is not steady enough, I do it even slower.
I never measured exactly the quality of my work whether I worked quicker or slower. But I’m done getting exhausted and drained at the end of the day. I can’t stand myself fall into anxiety again and again. And I don’t want to take any pills to make myself calm down even if I have to.
It’s hard to live in the fast pace modern life when you want really is just a simple life. It’s hard when you have to drive here and there to get everything done while what you want is just learn to paint and clean every corner of your living space.
What you gain is a clash. Twenty-four hours in a day will never be enough. Sleeping become a problem. Come eating disorder and so forth. Anxiety, is what I always bump into. Grasp me so fast, I feel like it took a lifetime to get over it.
There is always a reminder in your mind that you have to do this and to do that. As if laying on a hammock more than 3 minutes is a crime.