Life-Lessons are Tough

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My idea for this piece is to push myself to do the things I want to do. I could push myself with my writing, which I have done during the last year in terms of productivity. I had a feeling that the blank page syndrome I’d experienced for so many years was something I could try to cure. I am happy to say I think I’ve cured it. For the most part, at least, in regard to the articles I write about the things I observe, wonder about, or that bother me.

I recently thought to myself, if I could have a word, I would write about. I do that with my Do Good File, which never gets published. It’s a take on a first thing in the morning habit from James Clear, where he suggested you think of something uplifting as your feet hit the floor when you get out of bed. Mostly, I have to pee about then, so the habit didn’t stick with me. Later on, I thought to myself, “Well, I’m a writer. Maybe I could write about something inspirational to the tune of 200 or so words each day.” I don’t always make it, but I’ve been trying. Sometimes, I couldn’t think of anything uplifting to say, and that’s where I’d grab at one word and just write about that word on the days I couldn’t think of anything. I remember Hope being such a word. I think I wrote for almost a month about Hope.

I might start a new habit of writing about one word on the days when I need to write something that will eventually be published. Just enlarging on an already established habit. I think that might be interesting to try. Instead of 200 words bump it up to 600 words or so.

Speaking of life lessons, one of my favorite YouTube channels is a couple who, for the last five years, have been building their own house. There is a three-car garage off to the side of the house, which they’ve also built, and a small, cozy overnighter apartment on top of the garage. The problem is that they have heavy snow in the winter and live on top of a mountain, so the time they can get deliveries to work on the build stops in the wintertime.

They try to do as much as possible on their own, but there are some tasks that are just too far above their skill level or distasteful, so they rely on others to do them. Here comes the problem because at some point, there is a lot of complaining and finger-pointing that goes on. Who likes to hear that?

As a motivational writer and someone who had to learn the hard way, the quicker you take responsibility for your life, and the faster you can forgive people, yourself included, the easier your life is going to be.

However, I realize from personal experience that accepting responsibility for your life is a very, very hard thing to do.

Before that, being able to acknowledge to yourself that you are indeed responsible for your life, you’ve spent years blaming everybody else for whatever makes you unhappy.

Now, here is my learning: I shouldn’t let that bother me when people insist they are getting the short end of the stick or that somebody has tricked them. As a human being, I can’t change anyone. I can certainly put my advice out there, but as I recall in my own life, people would say things to me that sounded like they were a foreign language. It was so far away from what I had experienced that it would sound like they were giving advice to alien travelers as they anticipated a vacation stay on Earth.

Don’t eat the locals.

Remember when you were growing up, and your parents would tell you not to do something? I remember in second grade having a friend named Stephen. I loved him. I assume he loved me. We hung out at recess. I can remember kissing him on the cheek. Shortly thereafter, I got a scolding from a teacher. I didn’t understand what was wrong. If you love somebody, you kiss them. Right? Evidently not. We were no longer allowed to be friends. He was my first boyfriend. The next time I had a boyfriend was at least a good 10 years later.

What lesson did I learn from that experience? I’d have to think about it some. Certainly, having a boyfriend and kissing were all wrong. I’d been a bad girl. What else? That people were watching me and waiting to pounce on me for breaking a rule I didn’t even know was a rule.

After that, making friends of either sex was difficult for me. Moving around a lot, I suppose, didn’t help, but it was very good for my becoming an avid, life-long reader and eventually a writer. In some way, the scales tend to balance themselves out.

I suppose this is a three-parter piece of advice.

•         Accept responsibility for your own life.
•         Don’t be so hard on other people, or even on yourself, for how you or they act.
•         Enjoy life. It’s the only one you’ve got right now.

Another thing I’ve noticed about myself. I tend to worry about things. I’ve always been that way. I felt like Chicken Little with the sky that was expected to fall at any minute. Well into my adulthood, I’ve been an expert worrier. But now I try to catch myself periodically to see myself almost from a distance, thinking that I’m worrying overmuch about something. Some things you can address, like if you need a new pair of glasses. Make an appointment to get your eyes checked, a new prescription issued, and buy some glasses.

Many things you worry about are things you can solve. Or that you accept. 

I was newly married and tried to keep our house like my mother did, which was beautiful. Except, it turned out my husband was a slob. I got really frustrated those first couple of years of being married, when you could see the path Dennis took through the house when he got home from work. Here’s one shoe kicked off in the dining room. The other shoe makes it three feet later on the other side. There go his socks, again, one on either side of the hallway. Then, his pants, his shirt, his underpants. All of them on the floor. I would ask him to pick them up and not fling them every which way, but it went in one ear and out the other. The solution? I became a slob too. That’s been good for fifty years. Now, it’s funny when he complains about how messy my study is. I throw him out and tell him he is not allowed in the room. He's cleaned up before, and for years afterward, I can’t find things. It used to bother me. Now I just buy new things.

What bothers me is that his brother took a backhoe and buried all their father’s stuff in the back pasture. Dennis thought it was funny. Would I put it past him to do that with my stuff? Actually, no. Except that we have neither a pasture nor a backhoe.

I cleaned up a week or so ago to make room for our 2025 tax prep, and my stuff was moved. I couldn’t find my daily planner. I couldn’t find the stapler. I couldn’t find my ruler. I couldn’t find my red pen. The anger built up faster and faster, and I had only myself to blame. I cleaned up and could not find stuff. Luckily, I calmed down, and my desk area slowly came back into focus, and today I’ve gotten back to work.

These are the life-long lessons. We never really learn things completely. At least, I don’t. I think I’ve got it under control, and then something happens to prove there are nuanced levels of learning involved in so many things.

Hey, thanks for reading. For your convenience or curiosity, I’ve listed some other places where I’m active on the internet. See you next time.

Love,

🌺 Pauline Evanosky

🌺My Links:

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