It’s relieving to think I don’t have to care about everything. That I, Erin, don’t have to have an opinion and honestly it won’t really matter. I don’t care enough to be informed about everything, meaning I’m not informed enough to have an opinion, meaning I’m not opinionated enough to express my views to anyone.
Somewhere between fifth grade and sophomore year, I’d developed the part of my brain that convinces me I suck and everyone will think I’m a failure.
Maybe I can’t change the whole world to make it better than it is now, but I can improve my little corner of the world, my little sphere of influence and passion. Maybe not cleaning up the whole house, but just the kitchen.
A story for new years if you’re not quite feeling reborn.
When dealing with a change of the clocks and therefore a change in schedule, for those of us who overthink, it seems almost comforting to rearrange the entire day—look at us, we can engineer the most efficient, most logical, most pretty-on-paper schedule. And then, inevitably, because the plan is so perfect, it must be our fault that we failed at sticking to it.
If you were to list the sounds you associate with safety and comfort and ease, what would you include? A favorite song, perhaps? The voice of a loved one? The sound of the ocean or leaves gently rustling in the wind? I’m home alone this evening, and after a magical October-in-San-Francisco sunset, enjoyed on the… Continue reading Latent Lollygagger: Doing Dishes
If all I’m doing is fighting my brain, then I have zero room for anything else.
It’s hard to return to something, like writing a blog, that you’ve been away from for a while. Especially when the world is on fire.
Now that I’m 40, I have all my shit together.
I’m back to a common battle for me: the line between indulgence (true self-care) and laziness (false self-care).
bankoferin.com 