Organization – Gail Lowe

This is my favourite Covidism: A person will come out of lockdown as a hunk, a chunk, a drunk or a monk.

The first time I heard it, I laughed. The second time, I put my drink down long enough to step on the scale. Hmm, better rethink my coping strategies.

How are you coping right now? Have you had a chance to catch your breath, find some alone time to write or read or watch the final episodes of Lucifer on Netflix? Or maybe you’re on the other end of the pendulum, having spent far too much time alone since Covid restrictions were invented.

Coping strategies are as varied as the individuals trying to cope. There isn’t a one-size-fits-all fix, not even for the same individual. Lately, my tried-and-true ways of feeling better seem to have lost their magic. So I invented some new ones.

I currently have 75 books checked out of the library. This combination of fiction and non-fiction expands my world when everything seems so constricted. Looking through them, deciding what I want to read in the moment, gives me an awesome sense of wealth and possibility. While reading, I immediately place a hold on all books recommended by the author. I am reading a wider variety of subjects than I ever have before.

Cookbooks are included in this plethora of reading material. Today, we had Migas, Spanish-style eggs with garlicky crumbs and chorizo for brunch. For dinner, we made Fasolada, a Greek white bean soup that includes a topping of Kalamata olives, feta cheese and parsley. Yum! I highly recommend The Milk Street Cookbook 2017-2021, if you want to experience the world one recipe at a time.

I started brushing my teeth with my non-dominant hand. Benjamin Hardy, one of my new favourite authors, recommends this for waking up your brain. Suddenly brushing my teeth is a challenge again. I’m so busy concentrating on brushing my teeth that every other thought disappears.

My new workout consists of dancing. The music has to be loud, and it has to be rocking so it can shake up all of the stuck energy, not just inside of me but also in my house. I dance around the house singing and throwing love into every corner. When I’m done, I feel great. As my pulse recovers, I listen to the restored quiet of the house. I can feel how much the vibration has lifted. The silence sparkles.

For now, my bottle of Captain Morgan’s has been pushed to the back of the cupboard and my scale waits in the closet. I won’t be needing them for a while. I’m stepping out of Covid with a whole new list of coping strategies.

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I thought I wanted perfect.

I chased it with a list.

Until I changed perspective,

And found what I had missed.

Perfection is the ultimate goal.

That’s the incoming message, isn’t it? I see the cover pages of magazines while waiting in line at the grocery store. Perfectly organized pantries, closets and laundry rooms. Glorious kitchens with everything you need, perfectly placed and waiting for when you need it. Pure fiction, I suspect. At the very least, not my reality.

I have a panic room in my house that hides the real me. You know, the room where clutter gets stuffed while guests visit. Most people don’t go snooping in random rooms when they pop in for a quick visit but just in case, mine has a lock on it. For their own safety really.

I’m not proud of my natural lack of organization save the sock drawer. For some strange reason sock folding is a necessary task that fills me with joy at its completion. That drawer you can look in. Not the others.

I have created many lists over the years in an attempt to reach the ultimate goal of perfection. List completion doesn’t happen nearly as often as list creation. And list retention has proven to be a challenge. For the most part I am still the same messy, chaos-loving individual who has learned to live with clutter-blindness.

Except in my writing.

The need for every word of my novel to be flawless is worse than my sock-drawer compulsion. The story, the plot, the tension, the characters, the first line of each chapter, all of it has to be perfect. Is anyone surprised that my novel remains incomplete?

Learn From My Mistakes Moment: I am trying hardest to be perfect in the one area that needs perfection the least.

Why am I doing this?

Being a good writer is important to me. I always thought perfection equalled success.
The more I learn, the more I recognize how I can improve. Always.
Ultimately I am going to share my work with the world. Do I want to share anything that isn’t perfect?
And the real reason (drum roll): FEAR. Am I brave enough to share?

Fear keeps me working and reworking the same chapters, because until it’s perfect, I don’t have to share. No wonder my muse became completely bored and disillusioned and moved on to a different task. I found her last week reorganizing the Tupperware cupboard.

I have recognized PERFECT for the excuse it is and have struck a new deal with myself. I have posted it on my white board (in an effort to keep the left side of my brain happy):

Author Wanted:

Creativity is a must. A reckless, wild, limitless, crazy flow of unfiltered originality. The you that is you, spilling out onto the page, fearless, confident and irreverent.

Perfect not required.

Category: Organization

Cope, It’s Good For You

The Perfect Excuse