Kevin Spacey when Kevin Spacey was awesome.
Sitting in that detective’s office telling his version of how things went down.
“The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.”
For some reason I had this classic line from the 1995 movie, “The Usual Suspects,” running through my mind as I walked home from the subway tonight at around 7:00 PM.
This line, and a thousand other things . . .
The next six months are set to be fairly busy for me.
In addition to my regular 40 hour work week, I’ll now be volunteering at two places (adding basically a sixth day to my work week . . . including one Distress Centres shift a month that will take place from 11 PM to 6 AM), taking an online university course (Introduction to Social Research Methods . . . I’ll explain why I’m torturing myself with this in a future post, I promise), training for a 10 KM run (Ottawa Race weekend Take Two! So excited my second 10 KM race will be a repeat of my first one two year’s ago, just before my move to Toronto!), and attempting to make good on my renewed commitment to doing two yoga classes a week.
Oh, plus have a life.
And continue to put energy into finding balance (the twice weekly yoga commitment is definitely a nod to this need).
So, with all this on my plate, why of all things was I mulling over a line from an almost 20-year-old movie on my walk home???
Well, it’s cause I was thinking about it in contrast to this thought:
The greatest trick I ever pulled was convincing the world that I’m organized . . .
The truth is, I’m a scattered mess.
A dreamer who loves nothing better than to get my head stuck permanently in the clouds.
I once almost burned my folks’ house down when I put the kettle on to boil for some tea, walked away, and forgot about it until about 45 minutes later when the smell of the melting plastic handle finally hit me . . . and no, I didn’t do this as a child. This happened, like, a few year’s ago . . .
I regularly convince people that I’m organized.
The first time I showed up late to an appointment with my naturopath (after weeks of being very, very careful not to be late having set an intention to prioritize my appointments with him as a commitment to my well being) he said something to effect of, “I knew if you were late it would be for a good reason since you’re always so punctual.”
I burst out laughing.
That said, the reason many perceive me as an “on the ball A-type” is not actually all that much of a mystery.
Like an introvert who overcompensates for their dislike of large groups by forcing themselves to play the role of class clown only to arrive home exhausted by the effort, and so very glad to finally be alone, I spent much of my life attempting to make up for my scatteredness by putting in place numerous tricks, tools and trappings to help make me read like an organized person.
However, much like the introvert in extrovert’s clothing, this over compensating used to wear on me.
It was, in a word, exhausting.
Not just the desperate attempt to remember everything (which, if the fact I often have to leave my house three times to come back for items left behind is any indication, I was rarely successful at); but, also the judgement I sometimes ended up placing on myself when I failed in any significant way.
Until this past summer.
When I decided to lean into my scatteredness.
I stopped trying to make, and keep track of, so many plans.
I stopped putting so much pressure on myself to stay on top of everything.
I let dishes sit dirty while I took time to read, go for a walk or do some yoga.
I relaxed my “everything has a place” style of living (which compensates for my tendency to forget where I put important things rather than reveal any great passion for orderliness) and just let things sit where I put them until they got in the way.
I’m not gonna lie.
It got a bit messy.
But it also felt great to finally just be . . . me.
To learn how to love that part of myself again.
Over the fall, I realized that rather than be scattered all the time, what I really needed was to build in some head in the clouds time. I slowly developed a new routine that includes room for this need.
For example, I get up every morning at 6:30 but don’t leave my house until 8ish. Do I need an hour and a half to get ready every morning? Nope. But that 30-45 minutes of eating breakfast and letting myself get distracted by random articles on twitter or left over texts and emails from the day before while slowly drinking a massive mug of tea is essential if I’m to be on point for the rest of the day.
And now . . . six months of crazy hecticness is about to begin and I am determined not to lose touch with my new relationship with my need for a balance between scattered and organized.
So that’s why, on day one of my first week of adjusting to these new demands, I’m up way past the bed time I set myself in my new routine blogging about the looming insanity . . .
Because tonight, I just needed to create some space to get lost in my thoughts while ignoring my to do list.