Here we are, the final day of Come Blog With Me. It’s been gruelling and challenging – especially in terms of time management – but also thoroughly enjoyable. When someone asked the other day what our two favourite posts that we’d written were, I realised the writing is a total blur for me. I’ve really not much of a clue what I’ve written, so it will be interesting to go back and read it all. Perhaps there’ll be nuggets in there somewhere and posts to repurpose and improve later.
I don’t know if anyone out there blogs daily with an actual strategy, but I found that impossible with limited time. Unless you sit down to map out your content, jot down ideas and do bits of research before the challenge, if you’re running a full-time business and a household (with or without kids) and other hobbies on the side, the only thing you can really do during such a challenge is plonk your arse down in that chair, make it stay there and just write.
The great thing is that the more you do that, the more pathways you open to your mind and the more the words flow: when I started the challenge I worried I’d have nothing to say, and now on the last day I have three unfinished drafts waiting patiently for my attention.
So I’m going to come back on something that happened on “magical snow” day.
I sat at my desk working away, but was somewhat distracted by the beautiful snowfall outside and kept looking up from behind my computer to peer out the bay windows at the gorgeous spectacle outside.
Then as the snowflakes got bigger and bigger, my toes started twitching and I started to feel an overwhelming sense of joy and excitement well up inside me. I wanted to be out in it. I remembered how much I loved going walking in snowfalls in Montreal and realised that I hadn’t really done it since then. Why not?
Well that was a bloody good question and I couldn’t think of a single answer. Why not, indeed. So I turned to my partner, who hadn’t been able to go to work that morning, and said: “I’m going to go out for a walk in the snow. Are you coming?”
“What?!” he said. “You can’t go out in that; don’t be silly.”
“Well, why not? It’s just snow.”
“What if you hurt your knee? It’s really slippery out there. What if you fall and hurt yourself? And it’s cold!”
I checked in with my knee (I’m missing my anterior cruciate ligament in my left knee) and it felt stable, strong and ok. “Well I’ll rug up and I’ll be really careful.”
“The snow’s wet, you know. When I went out earlier it was very slushy. You’re going to get all wet.”
And that sounded less tempting. Wet’s ok in summer, but in winter? Yuck. So I tried to control my toe twitching and curb my excitement. I continued working and looking out the window from time to time.
And then it hit me: this was not my fear. This was his fear. My own comes AFTER the snow, when the powder gets packed underfoot and turns into treacherous ice.
If I didn’t go out for a walk in the falling, fresh snow, chances are I wouldn’t be able to go for a walk for a good couple of days because any remaining slush on the footpaths would turn to ice overnight when the temperatures dropped again.
I checked in with my knee once again, and it felt good to go, so I got up, pulled my snow boots on, put on a duvet coat and a warm, woolly scarf and put my foot down: I was going for a walk. I promised to be mindful of my knee and careful, and I was out the door. After all, keeping your wits about you in some situations is about all you can do if you don’t want to miss out on living.
I’ve enough dealing with my own fears. I certainly don’t need someone else’s.
Can you relate?
Do you sometimes find yourself not doing something you want to do because of a fear that’s not even your own? Someone else’s fear creeps in to stop you in your tracks?
Next time, ask yourself: Is this my fear?
If it’s not, why not just ignore it and let whomever it belongs to deal with it. I’m sure that, like me, you have enough of your own.
P.S: while I was scouting through my photos to find a picture for this post, I came across a video which cracked me up and proves just what a lady I’m not! (And what a snow bunny I’m not). I figured I’d share it with you