Burnt Out Donkeys With Jenga Towers

Oh.

Have realised today that I might be on a burn out.

May have been surfing a massive Rah Wave without realising how tall and precarious it was becoming.

Quite likely in fact.

And I’m used to surfing the Rah. But this one … bloody hell … this one is an epic mama.

A million little things that make up my day and night, my mumming and working and making and selling a house and having a divorce and running two businesses, have all piled on top of each other, higgledy piggledy.

Attempting to take time out in my Rainforest Jungle Spa mindset served to highlight just what little time I have for rejuvenation.

It’s cast a bright light over  how scattered my poor energies have become.

Bilbo Baggins said to Frodo (or was it Gandalf?) “I feel like butter spread too thin.”

Bilbo – I know what you’re talking about, sweetie.

I feel like a jittery overwhelmed octopus who not only has her finger in a buffet of pies, but is also baking them, mixing them and delivering them to the tables all at once as well as working the till and doing the books.

A little voice has been saying for some time, “slow down Bethan. Slooow down.”

Funny, because this is what I wanted to say to Moon-day this week. Slow down. There’s no hurry in the land of curry. Just chill.

But Moon-day is on a mission to keep the year rotating at it should. And I’ve been on one too. Keeping Everything Going.

Last week (I think it was last week) I took time out to speak with the Fosbury Goddess. It sounded as though she was also on the crest of the same Rah Wave. Her description – which I loved – went something like, “I feel as though I am wheeling around a wheelbarrow that is towering with stuff and my job is to keep it all on and upright.”

Found that image hilarious. Imagine the Fosbury Goddess wheeling around a wheelbarrow with a swaying Stuff-To-Do/Maintain Jenga Tower on top? Oh my …

“Stop laughing!” laughed Fosbury when I couldn’t stop laughing.

“I can’t,” I said. “because I know exactly what you are talking about. And what’s worse, people keep stuffing more things onto the wheelbarrow in every little gap.”

“Exactly!” she cried. “Oh My God, what’s going ON?”

The truth is … I DON’T KNOW. But if you are also on this Rah Wave, please know that you aren’t alone. All week my coaching clients have been talking about it. One said he feels like an abused donkey in a foreign country, loaded up with sacks and packs that are towering from his back who is being forced to climb the steepest mountain in the blazing midday heat.

An abused donkey with a Jenga tower. Oh my …

I love metaphors, don’t you? And this image was so similar to the Fosbury Goddess’s wheelbarrow (there’s always room to love a metaphor even if you are building up to a burn out).

Then yesterday the pre-burn out peaked.

I kept seeing mirages … Mirages of being with one of the Gorgeousness Tribe. This woman is an oasis of calm and reassurance for me. I kept having these heavenly daydreams about going to her home – a beautiful billowing sailing boat house full of linen whites and freshness – and having tea…

And cup cakes.

Cup cakes.

I never fantasize about cupcakes.

The Cupcake Sailoress must have heard my wimpering thoughts because she texted today and said, “are you okay?”

I texted back re. my need for cupcakes (didn’t mention that she needed to make them).

I mentioned the imminent burn out.

The Cupcake Sailoress said, “it’s in the air, lovely. I am feeling it too.”

Are you feeling it, beauty-full reader?

If you are, feel a nice “phew”.

It isn’t just you.

It’s the world. Or planetary. Or this rain. Or something. But it isn’t just you. Or me. Thank God.

And sometimes it takes for us to get to the crest of a massive Rah wave to realise how complex and high maintenance everything has become. Then we can do what it takes to care for ourselves, our needs and our gorgeousness.

In a bid to pull back my dishevelled energies I have deactivated my Facebook page.

Goodbye Facebook friends!!

I feel like I need one little cosy internet home at the moment and that’s here. Feels so nice. Like coming home after a very long, tiring, exhausting, Rah-wavish journey.

Please come here and stay for as long as you like. I will make tea and posts for you to read. Look – I even have an old fashioned kettle, the sort you can use on campfires. And there is a veranda where we can sit in chairs with mismatched cushions and look out at the sheets of July rain.

And smell the sweet peas.

And eat the Cupcake Sailoress’ cupcakes which she is BOUND to bake once she has popped over and read this.

Thank you Cupcake Sailoress and all of you lovely Gorgeousness Tribal Readers out there.

Love you.

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3 thoughts on “Burnt Out Donkeys With Jenga Towers

  1. Cupcake week next week Bethan?! I have a real whistling kettle too, it is red & was once very shiny, but still very loved for the comfort it provides so tirelessly. And I feel like the burnt out donkey & jenga tower sometimes. Only wish I could come up with my own metaphor that was as clever & descriptive & funny! Just reading this has made me smile a lot & feel human again. Oh and wishing that I’d got around to planting the sweet pea seeds this year!

    • Cupcake Week sounds divine doesn’t it? All sweet and simple and carefree and delicious. I’m very much up for that. I love the sound of your real whistling kettle. I used to have a reconditioned antique Victorian telephone. It was black and shiny and weighed a tonne. The handpiece was so heavy that it could almost have been an offensive weapon and I used to have a heart attack every time it rang. So loud!! I had to get a different phone in the end because so many calls needed touch-dial and this was a dial dial (?). It now sits on my side looking gorgeous and I miss its ring so badly.
      Good to know that others out there also have Donkey/Jenga Syndrome. Thank you for the rassurance! Much love to you. x

  2. PS. I don’t have any sweet peas in the garden really. I sat in a coffee shop the other day and an old lady sat down beside me. She had a lovely bunch of sweet peas, all purple and pink and beautiful. They smelt so much like summer that I couldn’t resist popping them into this blog post. It was like a little reminder that it really IS summer – not just an ongoing monsoon!

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