morning pages

i am trying to do way too much. life. i now have a part time job...(my jobette) which is wonderful if for no other reason i only work four afternoons a week and on thursday which is my friday my boss hands me a check. and he is a very decent bright guy which helps...anyway so i now have a jobette, a companion, who i adore and do not want to mess that relationship up...he is actually my first real boyfriend...(even though i have been married twice and divorced twice) and have a 34 year old son.so there is the relationship which i am grateful to be in, excercise, i am supposed to walk at least an hour a day and i have a dog, scout, who also needs a walk and to be feed and love too....i have a vegetable garden which needs weeding and tending and pinching back the tops...my arugula is even flourishing these days!! but to my great sadness every morning i go out and look to see if today is the day i have zuchinni ...but still none...! plenty of huge yellow flowers and the leaves on two plants are huge as are the stems on the ground but oh well. i had knee surgery and i am supposed to be doing at least two but more like four days a week of excercise which takes up an hour and a half, my hair, which needs to be blow dried, showers, cooking, cleaning, laundry, friends, AA meetings which I know was supposed to come first, calling and working with my sponsor, doing the steps, meditating, and on and on and on. And going to movies, we love movies. Babysitting. That's way up there. Jeff, my companion has three grand daugthers who i adore. beyond all measure. So all this is to say that I am trying to write. I think if we have gifts mine is writing. And I have just started working with an art buddy. And so now I am trying to fit into my schedule 3 morning pages and at least a half an hour a day (probably should be an hour minimum) of writing...hence the blog .... but you may see where i am going with this....i am going to blog my 3 morning pages. Or something like it. Maybe not. On days when I am in a rush? Not sure. We had a great meeting last night on fear. and how fear and love are the only two emotions. I see so clearly now how fear gets in my way all the time. I used to just run. Like lets take today. I woke up and looked at Jeff and last night he was sort of distant ....probably just completely tired from work...but I took it as being distant and said nothing (big mistake I am learning...) and by this morning I woke up thinking he was mad at me. The old me would have been ceased with fear, I would have concnetrated on something negative about him....and then told all my friends how he was this or that and then maybe would have just left. Said I hate you and taken my dog and left. All because I was afraid he didnt love me anymore.!!!And I always try to leave before anyone can leave me. (I have to disclose right here if I have not already done that...that my mother died when I was 13 and she got sick when I was 9 and it is so much apart of me that death) it has shaped me (or mis-shaped me since then) That horrible sadness I felt then--sheer terror actually--that I must have spent the rest of the years trying desperately to make sure that sadness never happened to me again. I was so powerless I try to exert what little power I have....to make sure I keep my life safe from that sadness. Afraid that it will happen again. Of course as a consequence I have spent most of life not really living.
Half Lives is one title that recurs. Until I got into AA (I was the tail end of 56) I really only lived half a life. I certainly did not feel my life. If I felt any fear coming on I drank red wine. And I worked. I had all these codes for things that were to be done and to be. They all had to do with looking beautiful, hence the hair that had to be made straight even though it is curly. So instead of working with the curls and realizing this is me and how can I make the best use of me and try for a look that is more natural to me I would go thumbing through womens magazines trying to look like Julie Christie or Charlotte Rampling or women who had their own look. Crazy now that I think of it. And I would try to style my hair like they did. (You know come to think of it though I hate to admit it...I am still doing that.) I need to just be me. Oh and to add to my list of what I am doing: I am in therapy with a psychiatrist, and in physical therapy and when in the world I am supposed to fit it all in? I can't even breathe thinking about this. Well. Much the same way I am learning to put my sobriety first, and know when my next meeting is, I need to write and know when my next writing session is.