Waking Up

Dear Diary:

I am wondering at myself for the past few months there. Wondering why I was not picking up the phone when a friend rang or responding when they texted requesting a lunch date, sometimes white-lying a text back saying I was "too busy," sometimes white-lying further and inventing something.

Lying down for a nap today the phone rings from a friend who's supposed to be on a 3 month cruise, I don't pick up and I lay there and thought, what the hell is going on with my non-answering such calls.

And then the bells went off and I realized that 99% of all recent friend contact made to me out here on The Rock is someone requesting something. With the exception of family and friends from the good old days. 

I wasn't mistaken today. Cruise friend had left a message saying she was leaving on October 1st and there was a new urgency in her life regarding the book I had been helping her with (a memoir) . Apparently she had shared the contents with  a friend and the friend had gone ahead and written her own memoir on the same theme and now maybe I could edit the remaining chapters while she was gone and then fire it off to a publisher forthwith as there was a rush now.

Note there is no offer of payment even though a 3 month cruise must cost a fortune. 

I should add she's not alone in these types of requests. I get request for all kinds of free help, writing, editing, accounting, financial and taxation advice. Usually prefaced with "You're so good at this and it will only take you a few minutes." Note upon requesting the free work they also devalue it.

I took a long hard look at myself after playing this message and thought why am I attracting these kinds of people into my life?

Obviously I'm a people pleaser. But when most of my relationships are transactional in some hidden way it makes me stop and reevaluate all of them. A lunch is cheap when you're looking for hundreds of dollars worth of free work.

My energy is compromised as I have ongoing health issues but I note I am rarely if ever asked how my health is. Most commonly I am told "you don't look sick" or " you look full of beans to me." Why thank you, when did you get your doctorate?" I think.

This morning there was an email from someone who wanted a "bit of training" as she was now a treasurer of a group and had no experience with spreadsheets. I responded, of course before the bells went off in the afternoon.

I feel remarkably stupid for not seeing all this before.

I am currently doing paid work for a writer who respects me and pays me well. So there's the upside.

I need to spend more time with friends who want nothing from me, though they are often distant from me geographically. 

And any free labour from here on in is verboten.

Watch this space.  

Kindness

Kindness takes many forms, doesn't it? And I can miss it. It gallops by sometimes when I am focussing on past unkindness, the sort that slaps you in the face from loved ones, trusted loved ones.

So awareness. A long time ago, a cousin mailed me a treasured book on awareness. The waking up to spirit, to the world around, to truth, to reality. I open it now and again and reflect on its messages.

Awareness to kindness. Not taking for granted even the smallest act or loving words. To really see and savour.

My washing machine is on the blink. It can manage small loads but not sheets and towels. It gets overwhelmed and won't spin. It galls me that it is only 6 years old, purchased with a legacy from an aunt. And I already spent ill-afforded cash on a repairman who couldn't fix it but had to charge me for his time. So as I save up for another, Daughter takes my sheets and towels. Very kind, you think. But more than that, and this brings me to tears: every single item is folded so neatly and perfectly and put into cardboard boxes so they stay that way. You have to know that Daughter is not a folder. I am and Other Daughter is. I'm talking sheets, pillowcases, towels. Folded perfectly by a non-folder. Kindness.

And Friend. I can't count the number of times she's dropped off tasty soups, stews, muffins and a book along with loving words and cheery predictions about life once I get back into the saddle of it but take all the time I want.

And others who assure me: "I know what you're going through. I've been there."

I posted this on my BFF's FB memory page today. One of her daughters is now the head off her - as we say back home - so much so that my heart skips a beat when I see her photos. That is the legacy for some, the faces of their mothers or fathers on them to light a candle of hope or elicit a cry of anguish for the observer depending on the day that's in it.