Written By Jillean McClory, The London Writers Society (LWS)
Have you hit stop lately? Taken a breath for fun or self-care? Or are you too busy trying to fit a square peg into a round hole? Or doing things out of obligation rather than love?
From a young age, we juggle school, friends, jobs, and relationships. The future brings commitments, mortgages, kids, and pets. We lose our knack for hitting pause on what we don’t want and, over time, lose pieces of ourselves.
As we age, watching leaves rustle or lying in the grass to enjoy clouds passing by are unacceptable ways to spend our time. There are challenges, chores, work, and juicy kids caked in jam and spaghetti that need our attention. We lose sight of chit-chat when we meet a friend at the grocery store. “How are you?” becomes a reiteration of our exhaustive to-do list.
Odd, not so odd, I lost my mind on grocery day. I know, hard to believe with the endless tasks of getting them, paying for them, loading and unloading twice—did I mention I miss professional baggers—then cleaning the fridge and cupboards, and putting everything away.
Caught in the throes of my busy life, on a hot, record-breaking July day, I careened to the dark side. To make matters worse, it was my night to cook. I’m a terrible cook. My people tell me they can taste the hate in my food. Enough said.
Overloaded with bags and bottles—yes, I carried them all at once—I headed for the mudroom door. A heavy bag of cold food in my right hand cut off my circulation. Bags hung from my shoulders. At the door, my fingers poked through the narrow laundry detergent handle but missed the doorknob. Instead of stopping to assess the situation, I forged on in a frustrating dither, losing my footing and falling against the car.
Every way I stood or turned was a fiasco. Calling my children to come and help was a washout. Sweat lashed my body in the boiling garage. I lunged at the door
Written By Jillean McClory, The London Writers Society (LWS)with abandon like a buckeejit, throwing in a few kicks, oblivious to the fact that I was cracking under the weight of pork tenderloin and supersized yogurt.
Why all the aggravation? The problem was fixable. Pause. Take a breath. Put down the heavy bags. Turn the knob. Pick up a bag and walk through the door. Instead, I catapulted to the edge in record time. It’s easy to do. We all do it. But it begs the question: what sparked my meltdown in front of the peas and carrots?
Our homogenized-mocha-genio-with-two-espresso-pumps world has definitely lost the art of the pause. How often do we walk into these things with a false sense of reality and then leap where every Jedi fears? It’s challenging to decipher our negative emotions while immersed in them. Still, once the fog clears, we need to ask ourselves, “What actually happened here? Why did I try to break down the door?”
When I made it out of the garage and tossed the bag of spuds around a bit, I left the groceries, had a lie-down, and reacquainted myself with why forcing the square peg into a round hole never works. I don’t mind telling you, in my prime, I’ve turned artful pause into a bit of a sport, but that’s another tale.
Truthfully, I’m a bit surprised my big head made it through the door at all that day. There are always pluses to every story.
Originally from Ireland, Jillean McClory resides in London, Ontario where she writes stories that look beyond the surface. She creates complex characters—flawed but relatable—who grapple with self-doubt, regret, grief and the messy realities of life as they navigate love, family, friends and careers.
Learn more at www.jilleanmcclory.com
