Hello, dear ones. It’s another Sunday night. Right about now, I’d normally be clenching in on myself, stressing on the advent of another Monday morning. I know it’s what most of us do. We dread the beginning of a new work or school week, often starting hours before the alarm goes off.
I’m trying an experiment, though, which I hope will reduce my stress and suffering. it’s Sunday night, and instead of worrying about work in the morning, I’m listening to classical music. I’m sitting in my home, enjoying my family. And when my mind turns to the endless grocery list of things I have to do at the office tomorrow, I just just breathe and say to myself, “Tomorrow.”
Tomorrow doesn’t exist. Not yet, really, except in our minds. Too many of us give this imaginary tomorrow way more power and influence than it needs or should have. I know I always have. I practice conversations in my head in advance. I imagine every possible scenario (one often more horrific than the last) when I know I have to confront someone or something I’m avoiding.
Because as humans, we are all born storytellers. I don’t care how hard you insist you are not “literary,” trust me, you are a story-teller. Your medium may not be pen and paper (or WordPress), but you are a story-teller.
It’s in our blood. It’s in our DNA. We can’t help it.
Tomorrow is Monday. Monday sucks. I hate Mondays. I hate my life.
There–story told. Beginning, middle, and end. And for what? What possible good can telling this story do?
We all tell a story, so why not tell a better one?
Tomorrow is Monday. Monday follows Sunday, which is today. Let’s focus on Sunday, which is where I am. Oooh, leftover pizza! Yum!
See? Much better story.
Have a great night, sweet dreams, and enjoy the leftover pizza.