Working in retail, it’s very rare that I have two days off in a row. In all honesty, when that happens it’s like being on a vacation. So, when I do have a day off I need to make the most of my time. In order for me to do that, I make a list of things I need to accomplish that day. If there are appointments that must be attended at a particular time, they go on the list first, spacing where time allows me to add other tasks. Next, I add the things that I must do and then I insert things I would like to get done as well.
I write lists at work, lists when I am planning a party, lists for vacations and I even write lists when I’m working on a blog. If there are certain points I’d like to make, I write them on a list. I make certain I hit each one, then circle back around to the original point I wanted to make. It’s very rewarding when I accomplish my list and I find that list making is a crucial skill I possess, a skill I have been honing for years. As a matter of fact, I’ve been a list maker since I was a kid.
I’ll never forget the day I found a list I had written in grade school. It was a list of things I wanted to do, skills I wanted to achieve. I don’t recall writing the list, but I had it tucked away in a desk in my bedroom. I found it at least two decades later and was pleasantly surprised to realize that I had accomplished everything I had written. Most of it was achieved in high school where I learn about photography and while participating in Ecology Club, I went horseback riding and canoeing. I don’t recall what else was on the list, but I do remember being very proud that I had achieved all my wishes, wishes I had completely forgotten.
When my marriage hit the fan, I read a book called Chicken Soup for the Soul. Reading the series of short stories saved me from total despair on a number of occasions, but the story that stuck with me the most was about a woman who had a book of wishes. Everything she had put into that book, images she had cut out from magazines, thoughts and quotes she admired, she was able to achieve, so I made my own. Back in the day, I needed most everything, but I filled the first pages in my book with magazine clippings of handsome men, words like love and trust, romantic images of flowers and Cinderella’s glass slipper. More than anything, I wanted a love of my own, someone who would protect and adore me and treat me like a princess.
Next I clipped images of a beautiful new home, new cars, a Viking professional oven, a sofa and stereo because my ex-husband had taken those, and an engagement ring. Of course the pages included images of women exercising and a statement of “Thin for Life”. There were pages dedicated to travel and adventure and oddly enough massage therapy. I don’t remember why I wanted to be a massage therapist, but I did. Over the years I would discover that what I had created was now referred to as a vision book, something that those who follow the “Laws of Attraction” would attest to being a very important tool in order to realize one’s wants and desires.
I did become a licensed massage therapist and I was able to get a new sofa and stereo. No to the beautiful new home and Viking oven, but we did get a newer car and I had a good roof over my head at all times. I did manage to travel and have adventures, but I have yet to see crystal clear blue tropical waters with my own eyes as I lazily sway on a hammock strung between two palm trees, maybe next year. I honestly thought I had found my prince charming with John, but alas it was all a beautiful dream that ended abruptly when the spell I had allowed him to cast upon me was broken.
No matter, because the most important page that I had created in that vision book is becoming a reality. I have always enjoyed writing and although I’ve never completed my degree in film making/screen writing, I am writing. Life has a way of getting in the way of accomplishing the items I have on my list, but I do jot down on my list of things to do on my day off that I must write. I make it a priority, but I don’t want to force myself either. If I feel void of expression, then I am allowing myself to take a pass. After all, I don’t want my writing to be as mindless as brushing my teeth. I want writing to be a gift I give myself.
Twenty-five years ago, I made a wish book that held all the things I truly wanted, things I felt a need to accomplish or acquire. One of the most important pages in that book holds the idea that I want to be a writer. The dream I had started to work on when I was a kid writing poems while sitting out in nature, the dashed dream of a young woman who lost her way at Columbia College when her mother died, the dream a weary single mother who fought her way through drowning waves of depression, has never ceased to exist, the hope, the desire, the wish to write lives. All I had to do was wait for the internet to become a thing, find a relentless therapist who kept tending the seed he planted in my brain and to find the strength to press the button and buy a domain so I could do what I’ve wanted to do, something that has been a “must do” on my list of things to do for a very, very long time.
My name is Groovy Gail and thank you for helping me scratch off “write” from today’s and many future lists of things to do. Be well.
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