Sunday.
It’s one of my favourite days of the week.
The day starts with dreams and sleep.
Last night’s dreams involved being excluded by mean girls, a trip down memory lane visiting my ex-husbands before my upcoming wedding, and architecturally specific memories of my childhood. Quite a mixed bag.
I sleep until I’m done on Sundays.
After I’m done sleeping, I spend a good amount of time snuggled under the covers letting my mind go wherever it wants to.
I think about what I’m going to cook later, why women feel so much pressure, how I might counteract those pressures through what I write here. I think about the arrogance of that idea. I wonder about how/if being on the margins has helped me shake off some of the crippling self-loathing and spiritual malnourishment women endure.
I watch the light change. I think about nothing. I simply am.
Coffee calls to me.
Sitting up in bed, listening to the sound of my fingers tapping on my iPad keyboard, and hearing nothing else – that’s Sunday.
Sometimes I listen to a podcast, read a book, then watching Netflix. Sundays are mine. I guard this time.
Writing a blog thing is an odd practice. It’s in some ways purely a journal of my life – undisciplined in output and free flowing. These words can be meh or meaningful; I don’t control that. Once they leave my fingers, they are no longer just mine. They become yours, ours somehow.
I often feel that I have “things I want to say”. I also often feel that having “things I want to say” could be a massive turn-off. My authority on these things; it’s not externally validated. It’s been found in the living I’ve done. It has come to me through time and tears. So. Many. Tears. It has not become my truth by learning – though I’ve had many teachers. The beliefs I hold at the core of my being, they are not easily, pithily packaged. I haven’t yet found a way to create a six step plan to personal freedom. Bugger. That thing could be a best seller.
Time is a hugely important component to learning about yourself. What do most women feel poorest in? Time.
That’s problematic.
Time doesn’t mean six weeks in an ashram or an extended sabbatical from daily life. Yet time is crucial.
On Sundays each week, I dedicate time to simply being. There’s no agenda to deeply contemplate my life, there is simply space. In that space, I give my SELF room to breathe, room to speak, room to be. I am refreshed by this practice. I become present.
Creating and guarding this space allows me to not just rest physically, but it has been the cornerstone of becoming comfortable with my mind, my SELF.
I am convinced that the discomfort many people seem to feel within themselves is actually strengthened, not sated, by filling every moment with activity, to-do lists and being “productive”. How much is ever enough?
The quest for validation is not externally won. It’s an inside job.
Take a deep breath. Ready?
The quest for validation is not externally won.
It’s an inside job.
More than anything, I believe that you and I can know ourselves deeply.
I believe this knowing opens us up to loving ourselves deeply; accepting, gentle, fierce, compassionate love.
I do.
I believe it with my whole heart.
Annette xxx
Let’s talk about this. The comments section is yours. ❤️
I Give You The Verbs 
I love this. I don’t get these Sundays at the moment (I know I will earn that time again eventually – it’s part and parcel of having young children and a husband whose current job requires him to work on Sunday mornings), but what you do is so good for the soul! I have been working on reclaiming my time & the time of my family as a unit lately. It’s so important to spend time with yourself and stop being a part of the busy = popular/better at living thing.
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It is important, and life’s definitely seasonal as far as our time goes – keep carving out that family time. So much better than being on the busy treadmill!!
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Typing through tears…
I hate sundays, too much time with not enough to do, well not enough that I want to do, there are always house chores but blurgh I do them all week. I feel obligated to be available to my family, so I hang around to clean the kitchen after they have been through many times, to drop off and pick up as required and to make a meal for the end of the day when all I want to do is eat toast and be a sloth. Hmmm writing this has made me realise 2 things, one my worth (in my mind) is linked to my productivity and two I’m a martyr.
I think the real truth is i’m not comfortable with me, actually I don’t even know me anymore.
Hmmm think I’ve turned the comment section into a therapy session, best I go and stir the soup or something.
Thanks for writing this and giving me a space to write my thoughts, just like a fart I’m more comfortable now they are out. Oh and I’m classsy too. 😉
cheers Kate
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Oh Kate, thank you for your vulnerability. ❤️
I hope that you take some time to let what you’ve shared here today marinate. It’s uncomfortable stuff, and yet so necessary.
These cracks, that’s how the light gets in.
PS Fart jokes are alright by me! 💨💨💨 😂😂😂
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👍😊
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Yep, if you want to know yourself you need to take the time – and have the time – to do so. Maybe some people don’t care to know themselves, don’t THINK to know themselves so filled days are not a problem. But if you DO want to know yourself then this busy-ness becomes an issue. It’s hard to snatch this time in a family. I know i’ve struggled with it at times. I have found myself saying ‘I don’t have the space to think, to think about what I want FOR ME.’ It’s tricky. BUT despite that, I think I’m pretty comfortable with me. Yep, i’d like time to think more about just ‘me’ and what I can do with my part of my life but I guess my life is defined by who I am in relation to others – I am somone’s wife, I am two people’s mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend. All of these people let me know I’m doing okay, I’m valued, and that gives me a sense of validation, that I’m navigating life okay. So yes, maybe we do need time to think about ourselves but perhaps if we have supportive souls around us, they can help us through the times when we don’t have time and may be feeling untethered. Does that make sense?
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It does make sense, definitely. I think you forgot one category of relationship though – the one you have with yourself!
As for those who don’t care to know themselves, they are truly mysterious creatures to me.
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