Motivation

I have no motivation. This is NOT what I want today. It’s gloomy outside and I’m an internal reflection of today’s forecast.  I haven’t even glanced in the mirror to see if the outside matches the inside.

Had an eye exam yesterday and prompted the question: “Does stress affect vision”? His

answer was yes and then my doctor followed that with some combination of consonants and vowels which I can’t quite remember. I wasn’t thrilled to leave his office knowing that a second pair of bifocals would be ready in two weeks.  First pair is for distance and close up, now I have one for mid vision and close up (more precisely for the range up to and including 24 inches from my nose).  My computer glasses are actually painting/ piano playing variety.  The other option was trifocals and you might just as well shoot me now.

My reason for the appointment was my annual checkup.  I don’t participate in the cart Blanche variety of preventative health care. Refuse to search for a primary care physician.

I am healthy, nearly 60 and really don’t want intervention to my daily routine.

Stress has come to stay with me.  It’s an inconvenient time. At this age, I am ready for some quality narcissistic, selfish, pampered "me time."  Trouble is I’m apparently not in charge.

Stability would be nice as a precursor to this stage in my evolutionary journey. Being removed from the whirlwind, which is currently my life, would be ideal…but not possible.

The reasons being:  retired, married, mother of recently engaged twenty-four-year-old daughter,  mother of fulltime college student/Navy Reservist, multiple pet owner and on and off again community volunteer. You understand that the list is not prioritized.

Now I remember, just recently, stating that the aforementioned stressors culminated in what I USED to call “positive stress”.

So what’s happened? I GAVE UP AUXILIARY VOLUNTEERING.  Thought that would resolve the internal conflicts. Nope, others have replaced it.

Now, I just wander around making lists and tacking the lists on the bulletin board in the far back hallway between kitchen and garage. Sometimes the list says “make a list”.

Okay, I’m an exceptionally detailed woman. Ask around.  I can plan a strategy for any

situation. I used to be able to act on it; but not today.

Maybe I need to redefine who I am. Not the psychiatrist’s version, requiring personality tests but from the perspective of a bucket list…or in my case a wheelbarrow list (one which can be easily dumped out if it’s not working for me).

Maybe I am not who I used to be. Is anyone? For that reason, I have not and will not ever, not in a gazillion , attend a class reunion. I left awkward behind decades ago.  Along with it went nerdy and budding sex kitten. That world didn’t prepare me for this one.

So I’m stuck, on a plateau of my existence.

I need tools and a toolbox; pink one I think or yellow. I already have one for my paints, brushes, pallets etc. How does one organize a life toolbox? Where does one begin? Will it have a combination lock for access?

Okay, now that I have established that I HAVE NEEDS, selecting tools is another excuse for a retail therapy. I can do retail therapy.  Used or new? Probably new.

Damn, another list.

And so it goes. While waiting for motivation, I’m going to exist on my rote memory of daily life…it keeps me out of trouble most of the time.