The Simple Life

I’m either officially old, or I’ve arrived. 

Never in a million years did I envision myself finding absolute joy and peace in being done and home for the evening on a Friday night, in my sweats and a comfortable sweater, by 530PM.  Bam and I went on a leisurely walk to decompress and move a little more, and my Jeep is backed in for the night to stay.  My work email is off and soon will be my computer.  My to-do list for the day, the week, and to be organized and ready for next week is fully checked and done.  Laundry is in process so there isn’t a pile for tomorrow.  There are groceries in the fridge and nothing unmanageable about my home.  I have some plans, but not too many.  I have gaps of time to myself, long spans with Mike, and some giving back to others and spending time with them too.

Whoever promised me that this would be what I wanted owns the world.  I really cannot describe the serenity I know in my heart today, looking forward into my quiet evening with myself at home and into tomorrow morning.  There is something sensational about going to bed early, giving my body and mind a full rest, and waking up refreshed well before most of the rest of the world on a Saturday, knowing I’ve done what I need to do and have set myself up for success.

This blog piggybacks my other about time: if you manage your time every day and throughout the week, you can usually find yourself alright by week’s end and into the weekend.  This is crucial for me, or I will hate you and not be available to you.  That used to be my story.  I was commuting 75-90 minutes one way in traffic every day, piloting a rigid routine that I had to follow or else I wouldn’t get it all done.  By Friday afternoon, my phone went on do not disturb by 530 and I was useless and dead.  Saturday I just tried to keep my head above water, and Sunday was spent doing things I couldn’t do because I was in the car a lot during the week.  Then back to it we went.

This worked for me, until it didn’t.  Thank God for prioritizing or else my fitness, my recovery, and my friends would be gone.  Thank God for time management or else my health, my semblance of sanity, and my motor skills would also be gone.  I had to experience that to know that that was not living.  I had to experience that to know how precious space and quiet really is. I had to experience that to know how much room there can be when you create it. There’s something to be said for discipline, but when there’s no room for any flexibility within that discipline, we can really suffer.  And I was.

So now?  After moving closer to work (by an hour), living near a plethora of both paved and unpaved trails by water and creating space in my life again, I can clearly say: this is it.  This is the best it has ever been.  And it’s not fancy.  It’s not crazy.  It is definitely abundant and it is definitely moderately-classed, but it is not untouchable.  There are pieces of my life that are big, but when broken down they are all glued together by a bunch of small ones.  So small, that without any one of them, the bigness would break and it just wouldn’t be.

It is those pieces, the small ones, which I refer to as simple.  It’s the little stuff that makes the big stuff happen. It’s staying home on a Friday night and eating a home cooked meal and going to bed early. It’s waking up when the sun rises and reading and writing on a Saturday to gain some clarity.  It’s the long run, in part with myself and in part with Mike, followed by a few hours of whatever we need.  It’s just me and another person I love, doing something we can do together, without anything really fancy but some fuel and hydration and an expensive ass pair of shoes.  It’s dinner with my parents tomorrow night and bringing my guy into it.  It’s having a guy that I actually want to really be my guy and taking pride in our partnership (post Valentine’s Day must). It’s a Sunday spent both doing absolutely nothing, some with a friend, and the rest to be determined. 

It’s not always like this, but when it is, I can rejoice.  I can be grateful. I can be calm. I can turn my shit off and know that I did enough, that I am enough, and that this right here is enough, too.