Busy ... not running anymore

Restoring furniture is one way I like
to keep busy when I need alone time.

Am I keeping myself busy because I’m running? Am I scared to stand still because, if I stop, I’ll need to look at my life in an orderly, adult manner? Is the busyness, the chaos, a cover for something? Or is it simply just because I’m still, three years into this widowhood gig, trying to create a life that works for me?

Honestly, this is something I review from time to time. It’s usually driven by a family member who says, “I don’t call because you’re always busy, or “You’re never home,” or a comment in a similar vein. Whether it’s implied or stated outright, the sentiment is the same: I’m always on the go and too busy to fit them into my life.

That’s what makes me stop, pause, reflect, question: Am I busy because I like to be busy or am I running?

The answer is usually I like to be busy but I won’t lie: in the first year after My Favourite Husband (MFH) died, I was at loose ends a lot. Everything was different despite the fact many things were the same. As I struggled with the transition from we to me, with the loneliness, with all of the emotions that crept in with the death of MFH, I did, lots of times, keep busy because I was running. I’d stand still long enough to adult and make the hard decisions. I’d grit my teeth as I did what needed to be done and then, if I became overwhelmed, I’d run. I’d pick an activity — many activities — and cram them into a day and sink into the release they gave. I didn’t think. I just did. I didn’t realize it at the time but the gift of hindsight is clarity and I can see now large chunks of my time included filling it because my solitude equated to pain and I was so damn tired of hurting. 

As time has passed and the jagged edges of my grief have become smoother, I’ve changed as well. I have learned — am learning, I will always be learning — self-care. That means time alone, often without noise. I can be doing anything from gardening to reading to napping in the sun, going for a walk but, as long as my batteries are recharged, it doesn’t matter what I do. I’m comfortable with the silence. I’m comfortable being alone. I’m in a place where I enjoy my own company. On my “me days,” I still can be busy — usually working on a refinishing project where my day is full — but it’s a different choice in how I fill my day.

My days generally include exercise as well and, since like to be in a pool (and since I live in Canada and don’t like polar bear swims), I’m off to local recreation centres for aquafit classes. Add to that stretch classes and dance classes. Exercise was one of my outlets for grief and I love the fact it’s now an important part of my daily routine. 

Add to that my seasonal work at a greenhouse along with a social life going to events that are interesting and ensuring tat I’m getting together with my close circle of friends and I can understand why someone would look at my life and say: “You’re always so busy."

But am I running? 

I’m not. Not right now. Right now, I’m exploring. Discovering. My busy days are balanced. I go but then I stop; retreat into solo busy. Because I’m learning to set boundaries, prioritize myself and my needs, I’m also learning what kind of busy my mind and body crave. And if my mind and body say stop, I’m learning to listen and not breach my own boundary, to respect myself. If I’ve committed to a day on my own without people engagements, I’m learning to keep that commitment to myself. That’s why I’m not running — not right now anyway. I don’t need to.

 My busy is balanced. My busy is beautiful.