We’re all guilty of this one: rushing.
Rushing to get to work.
Rushing to keep an appointment.
Rushing to get the shopping done.
The list is endless.
But when did we run out of time? Where did it go? Did someoneI steal a bit of the day away when we didn’t notice or are we just trying to squeeze too much in? And then there’s life. That’s just one big rush these days too. We all need to slow down a bit and enjoy what’s here in front of us, rather than bombing past it to get to the next thing on the agenda, or cramming so much into it that we can’t savour each and every moment.
In the last few weeks I have been a bit under the weather both physically and mentally. I have endured some pretty gruelling dental surgery that has left me exhausted and it has forced me to slow down. After being physically unable to eat properly for a week, I now have to eat at a snail’s pace, which is actually rather nice. Instead of racing through a meal, I now have to allow plenty of time and it has made me savour each and every mouthful. Not only has this had a profound effect on my enjoyment of food (I think I was a bit guilty of blasting through a meal without thoroughly appreciating it), but it has also had a profound effect on my waistline. My brain actually registers when my stomach is full rather than suddenly hitting what my dad would refer to as ‘Stokes Bridge’ and regretting that extra helping or that oversized portion for the rest of the day.
Having a bit of downtime has also allowed me time to think about what’s going on around me a bit more. Two of my brood flew the next a couple of years back: whilst eldest took her time, the younger one rushed headlong out of the door without so much as a backward glance. And I’m probably guilty of making her rush: in our eagerness for her to start her adult life and for us to have our ‘space’ we didn’t think things through properly and it all went a bit Pete Tong. In fairness to her, after two year’s of struggling she seems to have it sorted: a new flat, good friends and regular work. But for a time it was touch and go and I really, realy wish we hadn’t rushed.
TheSon went off to Reading last week with a tent, a sleeping bag and a flea in his ear. In my defence, the flea was to try to encourage him to sort his life out a bit and to get him to try to get a bit of a Life Plan in order rather than just daydreaming about heading off to Australia next year. However, the flea also rattled around in my own head all week, making me realise that once again, I’m rushing. Rushing to make him decide what to do with his life when he clearly isn’t remotely ready. I have explained to him that this recognition doesn’t give him grace to doss around the house until he’s 30 and finally decides what he’s going to do. It means that I expect him to do something meaningful whilst he’s making up his mind. Spending hours on the X-Box and smoking pot do not count as meaningful. I need him to understand that there’s a big difference between not rushing and being lazy.
In essence, rushing is connected to planning: plan it properly and there’s no need to rush. A bit of forward thinking and time makes all the difference: set off five minutes early for your appointment; get up twenty minutes earlier to get ready for work; allow more time for your meal; and dedicate more time to your family.
The last one is probably the most important of all. Before you know it, your children will be heading out into the adult world: take my advice and take your time, don’t rush. Once they’re gone they won’t be coming back; enjoy each and every moment and consider the next step carefully before jumping in feet first. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an ‘Empty Nester” – I miss my children when they’re not here but I appreciate that we’ve outgrown each other and they need their own space and life, and I in turn appreciate having my house to myself. However, trust me on this one, there is no need to rush.