Actually, if I’m being really truthful and honest, that title should read ‘Hot Cross 72 packets’, but it won’t support the point I’m about to make, and can y’all please stop judging me, it’s Easter and it’s my patriotic duty to eat as many damn buns as humanly possible.
I have a love/hate relationship with Easter. I mean, it’s pretty hard to go full hater on four days of mandated freedom – and then there’s Good Friday where all Australians are constitutionally bound to get their yearly fill of battered flake and chips (chicken salt doesn’t count as ‘meat’, yeah??) – and lets not forget Easter Monday, the national holiday of Aggressive Supermarket Discounting On Chocolate Eggs and Buns (better than the Boxing Day Sales, imo).
But Easter signals the change. While the weekends prior have been sunshine and beers, there’s something about Easter that suddenly, suddenly, you can feel the crisp start creeping in. The mornings are cooler, the air clearer, and all of a sudden, Summer feels like a bit of a hazy memory. Without fail, every Easter I get a little bit of OHEMGEE, IT’S ABOUT TO GET COLD AGAIN MELBOURNE panic. Oh and dark, because Daylight Savings is ending this weekend too – and don’t even ask me what that means in terms of turning back/turning forward – I still haven’t mastered it and if my iPhone didn’t do it’s automatic time thing I’d be completely lost.
Everyone goes away for Easter. Literally everyone I know has gotten in the car/boat/plane and departed their regular habited area. It’s the longest ‘free’ holiday break until December and the tinsel comes to town again, and somehow that, in combination with the WINTER IS COMING freak-out means that everyone I know has switched into ‘Do All The Things!’ mode.
That’s normally me. But this year, thanks to events and birthdays and Grand Prix and work and just general life, I’ve slid into this weekend sideways, with the low battery alert flashing. Too many things, not enough Em’s. I’ve read so many pieces about listening to your body, and I thought this time I might even listen, which is not a bad idea considering my nervous system was probably planning to stage an intervention.
So I stopped.
No plans, no doing, no rushing. I have nowhere to be and nothing to do. I’m going to the gym every morning, walking my dog (without my phone!) and lingering with a book over breakfast. I’m sleeping until I wake up, going to bed when I feel tired and lapping up the last of the sunshine – cat style.
And I’m also trying to de-stimulate my stretched thin brain.
I do all the things, all the time. MULTI-TASKING, COME AT ME! And while this trait is definitely my most trusted right hand man in the office arsenal (#doallthethings), the problem with being constantly in Save The World mode is that over time, it becomes your default and it’s hard to switch it off. I come home and cook dinner, while watching TV and checking my emails on my phone. It’s now not uncommon to find me triple screening in front of the TV. I triage my work emails on my days off, because DOING ALL THE THINGS.
Seriously Em. Chill the f&*k out. You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack (probably combined with a stroke because #multi-tasking).
Plus I’ve heard that constant state of stress induces cortisol, which ages you in a way that no amount of SK-II can reverse, and I pay TOO DAMN MUCH for that tray of skincare products in my bathroom to let it all go to hell because I’m too wound up and can’t relax like a normal person.
So I’m taking it down a notch. A weekend of slooooooow. A weekend of writing and reading and only doing one thing at the one time, because I’ve got four whole days ahead.
It’s not been easy, lemme tell you. My poor brain has no idea what to do with this single focus bullshit – and it’s struggling to keep the attention on this piece without wondering if maybe, just maybe we’re missing a really awesome episode of Catfish or something? #FOMO
I can’t remember the last time I sat down to write something without seventeen million other distractions around me, and while I’m excellent at blocking out the surrounding chaos, turns out I’m pretty shit at sitting in peace. I’m literally embodying the stereo-type of a writer RN, sitting in the sun at my dining table, cup of tea to my left, with nothing to distract me except for the gentle snore of my dog who has weirdly decided that the back door mat = great napping spot, and I’m wondering how long I need to keep it up before I’m ‘zen’ and can turn on Spotify or something.
At the end of the day, I know I’m Type A so this need to be ‘busy’ and ‘doing’ is burnt into my psyche. I’ll never truly be one of those folks who can sit peacefully in the forest and not need a device or purpose. Sarah Wilson, I am not. But a little self imposed reset every once in awhile might, just might, keep me sane a few more months. (Or stop the wrinkles. I’ll take either.)
Happy Easter, y’all. Hope it’s been a sugary, blissful break.