Before I met Mr. Wonderful, I was committed to one priority in life: having fun. After coming out of a really twisted relationship, I was bent on nurturing myself and that meant doing whatever pleased me at any given time.
If I thought it would be fun, I would do it. If I thought it felt uncomfortable or like it required too much work, I would not. I didn’t have the strength in me to handle more work after the exhausting relationship I’d just escaped.
Sometime in the early months of W-dating life, my focus on fun was further confirmed when I took a “Strengthsfinder” test at work. As part of the process, I had to complete exercises to determine my top priorities. Guess what #1 was? Pleasure.
At the time, it seemed to me that everything important in my life could be gathered under that delightful umbrella. If creativity was a priority, it was because it gave me pleasure. If family was, it was because their presence pleased me. Travel, adventure, health? All priorities that involved doing things I loved.
Flash forward to the past few weeks…and pleasure seems to be eluding me like Puxatawny Phil on a shadow-casting day.
All I can think about lately is what I SHOULD be doing. Not what I WANT to be doing. Creativity feels like a should. I should finish travel scrapbooks. I should work on my own writing. I should read and post blog entries. Although normally I enjoy doing these things, right now they feel like burdens. Working out? Also a huge weight on my should-covered shoulders.
I’m missing the days where I just did whatever I felt like; whatever pleased me.
If I felt like writing, I did it. If I felt like going for a run, great, if not, no big deal. Now it’s like the world (or my calves) will crumble if I don’t.
Even going to see Mr. W felt like a task last week. It was just more commuting when I would have preferred to stay home in my jammies.
Is it ridiculously selfish to have pleasure as a priority? Was I kidding myself by even indulging that value and making it #1? And will I forever be mourning those days of freedom and joy?
If you can’t tell, I’m in a funk. And I don’t even have PMS…