I can I know

There is an incredible amount of beauty in the ordinary.

My anxiety has often held me back from doing things I’d otherwise really like to do. The amount of planning, ruminating, obsessing, that goes on inside can easily make an activity lose all its appeal.

If the plans involve other people, it can be a bit easier to get going. I’ve got a greater chance of being able to go with the flow. If it’s just me, I am the flow. And I’ve never been very good at flowing.

I still have days where I end up sitting inside for hours, stuck in a loop, unable to leave, because for any one of a million reasons I can’t seem to get an exact plan figured out. Indecision. Not knowing. Inability to make a choice because what if the other choice would have been better, more correct.

And to venture out without a plan? To just go and see what happens? To not know exactly where you are headed, for how long you will be there, and where you might go afterwards? That, somehow, is exceptionally hard for me to do.

I like to know things. I like to know the plan. I get upset when the plan changes. Not because I am actually and logically upset, but because my brain just literally needs time to get used to a change in information. I expected one thing, and I’m getting another.

It’s not bad, it’s different. I’m not crying, I’m recalibrating.

This is not a thing I love about myself. The obsessive need to know the plan. The constant playing back of the plan in my mind. The rumination. The anxiety. The uncomfortableness.

Because I don’t love it, I have put a considerable amount of effort, over the last few years, into changing this. Stretching my ability to be flexible, to be spontaneous, to not know, to change plans, and to be ok with it.

And honestly, I’ve come a long way.

Earlier today I met a friend for lunch. We didn’t plan it in advance. I’m staying in her area of Bali for a few days in order to spend time together before we both soon leave the island. We have no schedule, just vibes. I was about to make my own food when she texted to ask if I wanted to meet, and I very much did, so I put my food away and headed out. It was pretty normal.

After lunch, I decided to walk the 15 minutes to the beach instead of heading right back to my room.

I spent a good half hour walking along the sand, alone, enjoying the gritty feeling beneath my feet, taking photos, watching and listening to the crashing waves, the spray of foam over huge chunks of mossy rock. The sand was on my skin, the water touched more of me than I hoped it would, and the sun was burning hot. It was beautiful.

Later in the day, missing my regular gym routine, I decided to go to a spin class. Alone. By myself.

I’d been to this studio once before, a couple months back with a friend. So that helped. It wasn’t completely unfamiliar. But I know good and well that I never before would’ve voluntarily gone to a spin class, alone, because I was craving a good workout, and then proceed to actually love the experience. It was crazy.

I did all of these things today. Ordinary things. Beautiful things. Spontaneous things.

There is so much joy in the details.

So much beauty in the ordinary.

In the ability to do “normal” things.

I am grateful.