Practicise
I think I've made a mistake. I'm going to complete what I have, sell this house and this practice and get gone, I don't know where.
It's memorial day, and I don't have much to remember, my father's cousin maybe, the huge portion of my life I wasted in Israel, the portion I am still wasting because of our building issues, the crappy result we got, the financial anchor it feels like.
So I seem to be getting a little emotional, but I noticed when I couldn't hold it together that I at least didn't have thoughts of killing myself in that moment. I guess I'm doing the seminar, being here now, or not.
I know I make a difference with people. They love me. I help them. And I can't motivate myself to get my work done.
And you wonder maybe why I am not writing. I assisted last night at a community event. I have a seminar Sunday. I'm assisting Monday. I have a classroom Tuesday.
So it was good last night, and I was acknowledged for the space I bring, and the lesson was that life doesn't occur in my head. It occurs out there/here, but I somehow spend most of my time in my head.
And then comes along a setback, a minor one no less, a motion to dismiss because someone claims that dropping a patient is malpractice, and not simple negligence, and it bothers me. I just don't know everything I should to be doing what I am doing. I expect I've a way out of this one, but I'm up against the statute of limitations, so if I'm not right, the case is dead, and that's on me.
I think I have somehow trained myself to follow the wrong path, like I am forbidden to follow the path of least resistance, probably because I have to prove something that can't be proved. I suppose it's a conversation of enough, or not being that.
I cried about something this week, I don't even recall what, but I sense that's what I do all the time anyway, whether it comes out or not. And maybe that comes across as self-pity, and maybe it is, and maybe it's just being with what's so. I'm sad.
And maybe it's just a crappy diet. I was fine until I came home and decided I had to eat a tomato and a half and the rest of the chips, but not the rest of the salsa, and nuts.
And I watched a stupid movie, and Miriam called to remind me to move mom's bed, which I did, and then I unpacked the car, and here I am less than an hour to Shabbat, and not knowing what to say.
Oh, Monday, and then memorial day. I must say they were fraught with memories. I went to pick up a phone system I'd bought on Monday. The plan was to do that on the way to visiting mom, but she didn't want a visit, or it would have been a hassle at the hospital, but I went to get my phone system anyway, and it was like ninety miles away, and the trees hadn't started coloring up yet, but the grass is green, and spring, or at least rain, was in the air.
And I passed so many memories, old crushes and girlfriends, and jobs and schools, and a scared useless younger me, who seems to have turned into a somewhat less scared, useless, older me.
And I have homework, and maybe I'm doing it. Here's a part: “Between now and next session, stand in the possibility that when you're upset, you're upset, and when you're not, you're not, and that is the whole story!” Maybe I'm just doing this for “sad” instead of “upset.”
And here's another part, since I'm looking at it anyway: “Identify at least one area of life where you have not been being responsible,” and I should cause a breakthrough there.
The first thing that comes up is that I am not responsible for my own happiness, but that sounds so shallow. But then I don't care about happy. Or maybe I'm just happy to be sad, or to be miserable, or I just like to complain. You know what they say: “You've got to be cruel to be kind.”
Maybe that's why my legs hurt me so much today. I haven't rowed since yesterday, and I'm just present to soreness, probably because I beat up on them so much the last month and a half.
Anyway, I created a new possibility yesterday, and now I only remember two parts and the initials: PITA or Itap: Intentional, present alive, and I forget the other. It wasn't true, or freedom, though that came up, but I think about it now truthful would be good, maybe trusting, and maybe peaceful for the P. Anyway, it's evolving, or I'm just spinning for no reason, which is also true, so we might as well add a reason, I guess.
I was so tired yesterday, and then I created my possibility and woke up, and then I watched an episode or two of garbage Netflix and then I went to work on our discovery and finally went to bed after two, or maybe it was three, and I couldn't get up easily (it took me until eight and change).
And I got busy with all sorts of shit today, and took care of some clients, and now I'm here, and it's time to shower and go.
And I need a dictator machine; so I can be a dictator. Sometimes I have good ideas, but they just don't get down, and if money weren't an object, I'd probably have a team of people each working his own crazy project.
I hope you all had a good holiday. I know you made your mother proud. She really appreciated it.
Thank You.
And that's just the way the word came out, so maybe I've coined a new one. Maybe I'll start a whole movement around it: Practicise, or should we spell it with a z, and a silent q.

I find in my case it is not a fear of work, but a fear of completion, of having something that I can put out there that is anywhere less than perfect.
And sometimes it’s different but I wonder, do I imitate my parents in this regard. What project could I complete in a week, and why have I not yet done so.
We love you nonetheless so all the good wishes.