Friday feels…positive (mostly).
I’m a natural stress-head. Not about everything but about little things. When it comes to big things, I’m surprisingly calm. I can handle it. But for little things, stupid things mostly, I’m a stress-head. I stress about time a lot. How am I going to find the time to get everything done? What if I die soon? I’ve taken on too much work…again! I stress about doing things well. You could have done that better, Riley. You’re not very good, are you Riley? I stress about stressing even. Chill out! What’s the matter with you? I snap at my poor, unsuspecting husband when I’m stressing too. I can’t help it. It’s like little worms burrowing into my brain and making me behave irrationally – irrational because stressing rarely helps.
It’s my old friend Paranoia, raising his ugly head again. “You’re stupid and lazy,” he says. “You’ll never get it all done because you’re useless,” he says. “You’re going to fail, you’re rubbish at everything, I don’t know why you don’t just crawl into a hole and hide,” he says. He’s a cow, that Paranoia. The sly old bugger convinced me, without my realising, to give up on writing my current WIP and even my blog. It wasn’t until I noticed months had gone by without my writing a single word that I realised what he was up to. The git. “If you give time to your writing,” he says, “you’ll never get all your other jobs done. Then the world will end and it’ll all be your fault.”
But then, a couple of weeks back, Confidence started to sneak back in. Not full-force, not in-your-face, but a gentle weaving. “You know,” he said to me last week, “if you dedicate one day a week to writing your own stuff instead of to the bar or to writing other people’s stuff, you’ll still get all that other crap done in the week.” And I thought, you know what, Confidence? I think you’re right. I’m going to give it a go. And give it a go I did.
Confidence was right. I did manage to get everything done even though I’d lost a whole day to my own indulgences. Confidence was right. I did enjoy working on my own stuff after such a long time – even if it’s only for a couple of hours a week. Confidence was right. So Saturday’s the day. Every Saturday. Tomorrow…
Saturdays have just about become the best day of the week (although admittedly, it’s got stiff competition with date-night Tuesdays).
Confidence was right and that’s why Friday feels…positive. Good ol’ Confidence.