Some days I don’t feel like doing much, and all I want to do is slouch on the couch – basically have a lazy day just being decadent and gloriously self-indulgent in the comfort of my own home, without having to feel guilty and secretive about it…
Sadly, living in a culture and society that seems to value constant busy-ness (or at least the surface impression of it) above all else, it often feels incumbent upon me either to try to justify or to hide my desire for absolute idleness when it strikes, as if my deliberate (albeit temporary) lack of productivity is simply too much of a traditional taboo to break, and the ever-present threat of being labelled a good-for-nothing wastrel too shameful to contemplate.
But I’ve worked hard throughout my life, struggled through depression and divorce and gaining a degree as a mature student, not to mention being a mum since just before my nineteenth birthday. I’ve done the sleepless nights and the single-parenthood and juggled home/ work responsibilities for years, and now in my fifties I don’t see what’s wrong with wanting a bit of a break from the business of busy-ness now and again, now I find I’ve got the opportunity.
Some days I love rushing around like a whirlwind getting lots done, as if I’m on a constant high, relishing the buzz of a conveyor-belt pace of achievement as I tick items off my to-do list one by one – tick, tick, tick. But there are also times when I simply need time to myself just to be. Sometimes that time is spent outside walking in nature, sometimes taking photographs, sometimes enjoying a quiet coffee alone in a cafe somewhere, watching the world go by.
And sometimes, whether the rest of the world approves or not, time to be me means just slouching on the sofa in comfy clothes doing nothing much of any consequence other than ruminating over nothing in particular, just like today… 🙂