"The kids would play for a while, climb on us the next, and soon discover that drawing on my arm, during my hazy stupor, rather delightful fun."
My brain was foggy and unusually so for a Monday. I had chosen over the last couple weeks to stay up very late for no good reason and was paying my debt for it. By afternoon my wife was feeling unwell and needed rest so before soon we were all in bed together, walloped for one reason or another. The kids would play for a while, climb on us the next, and soon discover that drawing on my arm, during my hazy stupor, was a rather delightful activity.
I realized in the middle of being scribbled on that life happens in scribbles and doesn’t go as planned – especially Monday’s. A couple of bad days can thwart our moods into thinking we won’t achieve the days goals. Worst of all we must admit that a day, a week, month or an entire season doesn’t go to plan because as with my case, it was completely my own fault. A succession of bad decisions had left me defenseless to tiredness, a chaotic house and no motivation to fight the brain fog to even write about anything, in spite of my lofty dreams to be a successful one day.
With hardly the image of looking or feeling like the family leader during this time, I added to it but willing a Just Eat food delivery as the decision for tea. I could at least to be ready for that. I took myself to the shower and washed off the scribbles from my neck and left arm which looked like I awarded myself to the worst tattoo artist in the town alley who just came out of a country-wide lock-down. No, I just failed to occupy my kids so they literally took things into their own hands.
Removal of the pen scribbles required a small process to reset. Undressing, getting in the shower, applying soap, scrubbing, rinsing, drying. The marks were off and I was beginning to feel like myself again. This gave me a small snowball of motivation to roll into dealing with the destruction of the rooms, tidying along the way and setting the table. Once this process was accomplished, it helped to reset my surroundings. The barbershop visit I had earlier in the day for the first time in 3 months, was a process to reset my physical image. We dived into our food and the sustenance from that process, combined with stopping just shy of full, compounded in my ability to reset my feelings of self control. My process of plans to go to bed at a decent time, though thwarted by our youngest daughter who had other ideas, nonetheless helped reset my respect for my bodies need to sleep sufficiently.
What I realized was these were all little everyday opportunities for process and reset. The power of the reset in life is powerful. They come in all sorts of shapes and sizes and are often missed: Going to bed earlier, Eating right, having haircuts, meeting an old friend, strolling in a park, creating art or getting away from home for a holiday. If we do not look for these and other kinds of processes and resets we tell ourselves there is no getting out of the ruts we find ourselves in. Maybe the scribbles on my arm served me well after all.
1) What are the different scribbles that are on your own arm in life that can be removed with a process and reset?
2) What process and reset have you forgotten you’ve used before while in a rut?
3) Is there somebody in your life who needs to hear this, to get their own mind into the gears of process and reset?