Lately I’ve found myself mourning the kind of person I’m not.

“I wish I were the kind of person who…”
* Understood the nuances of wine
* Liked to cook
* Always had delicious smelling candles around the house
* Easily kept said house clean
* Could write fiction

One day when I was having one of these wistful moments, The Hub said, “why can’t you be?”

It was an offhanded comment, but one I felt to be profound. The only person keeping me from being any of the things I’m not is…wait for it.. ME.

Huh.
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Because I’m traveling to Ireland in a few weeks (yes! I know! Exciting!), and because Max is out all of April for Spring Break (yes! I know! Long time! Year ’round school!), I got most of my work done for the next few months back in March.

So that means I work a few hours a day now and then have the rest of the day free. For some reason, I feel guilty. I feel like I should be working. But I’m still getting paid, and I got the same amount done, so what’s the issue?

As the Hub says: I run a lifestyle business. What that means is I can work for 2 or 12 hours a day as needed. I can take off in the middle of the day to shop or pick up Max. I can take on projects that I like, and decline ones I don’t. I make enough to support my lifestyle, and I’m not breaking my back to do so.

Jealous much?  

I’ve come to realize I don’t want to build a million dollar marketing firm, at least not at this point in my life. And that’s ok. I can be aspirational in my own way, helping small business owners grow their companies through content. I don’t have to have a giant office with 20 employees to justify my own success.

I’m just telling myself this; not you. Don’t mind my talking to myself.

Photo: Torley on Flickr.

I’ve had a lot going on at work lately, and I have come to realize how much I internalize stress. Not only did I manage to injure my back doing yoga last month, I continued to have tight muscles (moreso than usual) for weeks after.

My massage therapist is like a bartender, I tell her. She asks about what’s going on in my life, and as I tell her all my woes, she finds my physical reaction in my body. It’s amazing, the connection between the brain and the body.

I’ve always carried my stress in my shoulders. But now I’m finding I have tight hips, so clearly I’m carrying it in other places.

After a particularly bad bout of stress, my therapist told me to envision a rose, and put the thing that’s stressing me inside the rose. Then blow it up. Watch the rose explode. I began practicing this immediately, and it seems to help keep me from tensing up quite so much.

The older I get, the more valuable I realize my body is. I want to take care of it now so I don’t end up a gnarled ball of tight muscles when I’m older.

Photo: bottled void on Flickr