My first success

One of many to come. I should celebrate a victory, however small.

Today it wasn’t a special day. But smack dab in the middle there was a successful instance I need to remember. For, I need to remember the positive in my life rather than the negative. You are what you think. (“When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.“ — Lao Tzu)

One should have a goal, a measuring tool, and a discriminatory eye for the positive outcomes only.

I have a goal. Become more punctual. It’s not a S.M.A.R.T. goal yet, but coming soon. Up until now, I’ve been mostly focusing on the negative outcomes. I live in constant deprecation, inflicted by none other than myself.  “I’m always late.” “I’ll never succeed.” I’m no good at keeping a schedule.” I’ll fail again.” Etc.

NLP (Neuro Linguistic Programming) instructions are you should use positive statements, and avoid generalisations (the above always, never, no good at, …). So always rephrase. “Today I was late, but yesterday I managed to be on time.” “I may have failed this time, but I’ve learned …”

You should reward yourself when successful.

— [Jack is reminding me I use the word success too many times here.] —
But success and successful are stoppers to word flow because I type-stutter over the c-s and s-s so I practice.

Would I ever spill the beans about the success today? The story goes like this … I’ve been always late. I try and fail, try again and again (Yoda would say I try too much, and should do instead). Today was an instance when I was on time.
Me, my husband, and children came home at about 5.30 pm. My husband had an appointment at 6.30, and my son was to go with my mother-in-law to his cousin’s music performance at the same time. We had a small window in which we had to have dinner. My boy wanted to watch cartoons. Because I and my husband were exhausted, barely standing on our feet, we decided to give him cartoons in exchange for half an hour of peace. He promised to stop watching when told so. We crushed for a few minutes. At 6 pm we heated up the dinner (it was my mother-in-law’s present), ate it, not complicate and were even a few minutes early. My husband said he’d take my son to his mother’s, and they went at 6.30. I was once on time. They met my mother-in-law on the way down and my little girl was conveniently sleepy.

I was high on success. I put her to sleep, ate some more, cleaned up a bit, browsed the internet, and wrote some words, all in an hour and a half before my son came back.

What can I say, I was happy. Of course, there was a reaction, as usual. I felt guilty of being happy and recoiled. Or am I in the bipolar territory? I won’t deal with this today. At least I was happy for a little while.

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