Apparently, I'm Not a Superhero. Who Knew?
AI-generated illustration inspired by Deb and Chica.
Finding joy in doing a little less and living a whole lot more.
I've come to a rather startling realization.
Apparently, I'm not a superhero.
I know. Shocking, isn't it?
Personally, I think there should have been some kind of official notification. A letter, perhaps.
Something from the Superhero Licensing Department informing me that my cape had expired.
Instead, I apparently missed the memo and just kept flying around like Wonder Woman with a glue gun.
For most of my life, I've operated under the assumption that if something needed doing, I could do it. And if there were ten things that needed doing, well, I'd just do all ten. Preferably before lunch.
Rest? Oh, that's what you do when everything is finished.
Which, of course, is NEVER.
I've spent a lifetime wearing more hats than any one person should reasonably own. Artist, teacher, businesswoman, wife, mother, problem solver, organizer, and occasionally, professional chaos coordinator.
And I loved it. Still do, actually.
But somewhere along the way, life decided it was time for a little course correction.
Not a gentle tap on the shoulder, mind you. More like a two-by-four upside the head.
Apparently, the Universe tried subtlety first, but I was too busy to notice.
My Brain Has Not Received the Memo
Here's the funny thing about learning to slow down.
My body understands the assignment.
My brain? Not so much.
My brain still wakes up every morning with a list of possibilities. We could finish that artwork!
Prepare for the next class! Organize the studio! Write a blog! Maybe start something entirely new!
And while we're at it, let's reorganize the garage!
SQUIRREL!
Meanwhile, my body is standing in the corner, arms crossed, saying, "Seriously, woman? We talked about this."
And there's Kevin, my sweet husband, gently reminding me that perhaps I don't need to accomplish everything in a single day.
He's become remarkably good at recognizing when I'm approaching my limits.
Me? I'm still working on that particular skill.
Usually, by the time I realize I've overdone it, my body has already filed a formal complaint, staged a walkout, and contacted its attorney.
It's amazing how someone who can spend hundreds of hours patiently creating a piece of fiber art can have absolutely no patience with herself.
Seriously. I can spend 360 hours creating the Grand Canyon out of fiber, but sitting still for 30 minutes?
Apparently, that's where I draw the line.
When Did Doing Less Become a Bad Thing?
I've been thinking about that lately.
Somewhere in our busy lives, many of us started believing that being productive meant being valuable.
We measure our days by what we crossed off the list, how much we accomplished, how many people we helped, and whether we managed to squeeze just one more thing into an already overflowing schedule.
And when we can't do everything?
We feel guilty.
Good grief. Who made up these rules?
I'd like to speak to the manager.
Certainly not me. My entire artistic philosophy is No Rules, Just Art®!
Maybe it's time I started applying that philosophy to the rest of my life.
Because here's something I'm beginning to understand.
Doing less doesn't mean becoming less.
It doesn't mean losing our passion, our purpose, or our ability to contribute something beautiful to the world.
Sometimes it simply means making room to enjoy the very life we've worked so hard to create.
And maybe, just maybe, realizing that the laundry will still be there tomorrow.
Trust me. I've tested this theory. Extensively.
The Unexpected Gift
The other day, I found myself imagining what life might look like if I stopped measuring my days by how much I could squeeze into them.
What if I spent more mornings creating simply because I wanted to?
What if I took a walk with Chica without mentally planning the next six things I needed to accomplish?
What if I continued teaching and sharing my art, but also gave myself permission to enjoy the quieter moments between those wonderful adventures?
What if an afternoon with Kevin, a good meal, a little laughter, and absolutely nothing on the agenda counted as a spectacularly successful day?
And you know what happened?
I felt something I hadn't expected.
Relief.
Not sadness. Not defeat. Not even disappointment.
Just this lovely sense of possibility.
As though someone had opened a window and let a fresh breeze into a room I'd forgotten was stuffy.
I realized that I don't have to stop doing the things I love.
I just don't have to do ALL the things, ALL the time.
Imagine that!
Somebody alert the media. Woman discovers that the world continues spinning even when she takes a nap.
Film at eleven.
A Different Kind of Strong
For a long time, I thought strength meant pushing through.
Keep going. Work harder. Don't give up. Find a way.
And sometimes, that's exactly what strength requires.
But I'm discovering there's another kind of strength.
The kind that says, "I've done enough for today."
The kind that allows us to change our expectations without feeling that we've somehow failed.
The kind that recognizes that joy doesn't have to be earned through exhaustion.
And perhaps most importantly, the kind that lets us be perfectly happy with who we are today, rather than constantly comparing ourselves to who we used to be.
I'm still an artist. Still a teacher. Still a woman with more creative ideas than I could possibly finish in three lifetimes.
And yes, I'm still excited about the classes, exhibitions, and adventures ahead.
But I'm also learning to appreciate a quieter kind of wonderful.
The kind that doesn't require a packed calendar or a completed checklist.
Sometimes it looks like a peaceful morning in my studio.
Sometimes it's Chica insisting that the entire universe stop revolving until she gets her walk. All 17 pounds of her are remarkably persuasive. Apparently, she missed the memo about who's in charge around here, too.
And sometimes it's simply making dinner, curling up beside Kevin, and realizing that nothing else needs to happen for the day to be complete.
No awards. No applause. No standing ovation.
Although, frankly, I wouldn't object to a little applause for dinner now and then.
Just saying.
Maybe This Is What Living Looks Like
I don't have all the answers.
I'm still figuring out how to balance the things I love with the life I want to enjoy.
And I suspect my brain will continue trying to convince me that I can accomplish twelve things before breakfast.
Old habits die hard.
But I'm learning.
Maybe the goal isn't to get back to the person I was.
Maybe the goal is to discover how wonderful the person I'm becoming can be.
Someone who still dreams big, creates boldly, laughs often, and occasionally takes a nap without feeling the need to justify it.
Someone who understands that a full life and a full calendar are not necessarily the same thing.
And someone who finally realizes that she doesn't need a cape to be extraordinary.
Although, between you and me, I think I'd look pretty fabulous in purple.
Maybe with a little turquoise trim.
And beads.
Oh, who am I kidding? I'd probably embellish the darn thing until it weighed 40 pounds.
Then I'd need another nap.
So here's my thought for this week.
You don't have to do everything to have everything that matters.
Maybe you've spent years being the strong one. The dependable one. The one who gets things done, holds everything together, and somehow always finds a way.
Maybe, like me, you've become so good at taking care of everything that you've forgotten to stop and enjoy what you've worked so hard to build.
Well, here's a thought.
What if you've already done enough to deserve a little peace?
What if you don't have to prove another thing to anyone, including yourself?
What if the greatest gift you could give yourself isn't another accomplishment, but the freedom to simply enjoy being alive?
To laugh until your belly hurts. To create something just because it makes your heart sing. To hold the hand of someone you love. To watch the sun rise, take the long way home, or sit quietly and realize that, right here, right now, life is pretty darn beautiful.
I'm not giving up my dreams. Far from it.
I'm just learning that I don't have to run myself ragged chasing them.
Because someday, when I look back on this wonderful, messy, unpredictable life of mine, I don't want to remember how much I got done.
I want to remember how much I loved. How much I laughed. How much I created. And how deeply I allowed myself to live.
And if that means hanging up my superhero cape every now and then, so be it.
Besides, I've got a perfectly good purple bathrobe.
And it's a whole lot more comfortable.
No Rules, Just Art®
And maybe, just maybe... No Rules, Just Life.
YES THIS!!!