All wound up and worked up about everything. About nothing.
My head was in a tizzy just because. My panties all in a bunch just because.
My mind had been hijacked, once again, by prim, narrow-minded, short-sighted, control freak, borderline obsessive inner Cranky Bitch. Shit.
She who acts as if she’s perpetually wearing the female equivalent of tighty whiteys 2 sizes too small.
She who demands that breakfast be finished before going for coffee (even though I’m no longer hungry).
She who insists that I shower before coffee, because that’s the “right” order of things (even if I don’t feel like it).
She who snarks and snips if I even think of not doing the dishes before leaving (how could I even dare consider such a thought).
She’s the one my insecurities love to harass. And indeed they were right there, on the edge of peripheral awareness, just waiting to pounce.
You know the ones: they sneak quietly into the light of consciousness only to scream once there: “See us!? We’re still here! It’s never gonna happen!” (Usually they don’t bother to clarify what “It” is—seems to be a blanket statement for everything.)
She’s the churlish teenager who wears dark, heavy makeup. The one the kind teacher tries to reach out to but gets only a sneer in return.
She’s the bureaucrat who takes her job way too seriously. The one who takes secret pleasure in making people jump through ridiculous hoops to achieve the simplest of outcomes.
Nothing is good enough for her. The coffee not hot enough, the foam not micro enough.
Oh, I think she enjoys being miserable, maybe even gets some kind of perverse self-satisfaction in her unhappiness. She wears it with a big old splash of smug.
She was not to be denied, she was intent on being in a bad mood.
Somehow, thank goodness, she wasn’t able to take over 100%. There was still a small part of me that knew (hoped?) that a change in venue and some caffeine might be able to turn the tables.
After journaling the above diatribe, I washed my face, got dressed, grabbed the laptop and set off for the cafe.
Along the way, I stopped under my favorite tree—a big Laurel of India. The canopy is tall and wide, the trunk and main branches smooth and whitish.
The dark leaves provide dense housing for a metropolis of singing and chirping birds. Oh, how I love that cacophany!
I chose a table in the main room of the cafe, an atrium-like space with a bright wall of windows and high ceilings. Fun, almost ska-like music by a Mexican group filled the space.
After ordering a cappuccino and calling on my support team of Devas, I got to work.
Within 10 minutes I was deep into the next Workbook. WHAT?!?
After weeks of hemming and hawing about what to include.
After seeming eons of “what format?” ponderings.
After a crotchety morning (ref. above soliloquy) of seemingly senseless irritation… despite all that, the ideas were flowing, combining and pouring forth in a logical-creative, entirely-acceptable format.
There was zero wishy-washiness about the concepts flowing onto the page. There was no waffling about what belonged and what didn’t. How deliciously satisfying! I was direct, clear, focused.
What a second… Focus!
Muse with me here for a moment—what just happened?? How could a day that started out so obnoxiously turn into a Fantastic Work Session so quickly?
Thinking back to the feelings of the morning, I’d summarize them as: tight, constricted and narrow-minded.
Couldn’t you use the same adjectives for laser-focused attention?!? A spotlight beam of concentration. Zero diffusion.
It was as if the energy of intense focus was present all morning, but at first it simmered and stewed and spewed randomly which tainted everything and resulted in a super cranky mood.
Journaling directly about the experience served to reign in the wild energy. The walk and change of venue encouraged a shift in attitude (probably by getting energy moving). And an amazing-awesome work session followed.
What’s the take-away here? Use your tools, let go of expectation and live fully.
More specifically, six steps to avoid the curse of the tighty whiteys:
- Ride a bad mood like you’re on a bucking bronco and holding on for dear life.
- Lean into it—instead of ignoring, denying, or trying to change it.
- Pull it into the light by describing it or personifying it. Seek out every little hiding place. Call out every insecurity it brings with it.
- Write it all down as fast as you can (so that you don’t get caught up in what you’re writing and get tempted to believe any of it).
- Ride it all the way. You’ll know you’re nearing the end when you start finding it amusing.
- Then do something physical. Get your energy moving. Let the mood organically transform into something else.
Instead of staying stuck in a “bad” mood, consider this an opportunity to play alchemist and shift your energy. There’s no need to be victimized by it!
Besides, this may well be your Soul’s roundabout way of inviting you to open to something downright amazing-awesome. You won’t know unless you give it a go.