Why are endings always harder ?

Well I just had to show how my garden progresses and I have to say I'm getting more than my share of enjoyment out of my tiny plot. It's over planted and there is no coherent plan or record keeping going on just lot's of planting and some watering. And  I'm proud to say we ate all of the first spinach crop this weekend just gone. Spinach and feta fritters. Very tasty.

This week I've been overwhelmed with trying to finish things and been thinking a bit how often beginnings are spoken of as being difficult but in my experience it's the endings that are messy and hard to navigate. This year I got a small scholarship to find out about the experiences of teachers as they move into late career. While I was on leave for the first 6 months of the year and working for what is known as the "dark side" I got to travel a lot and had plenty of time to think and  read and get onto this study. Since I've been back at my real job  I have found myself so unmotivated and almost at the point of mental paralysis when it comes to writing up my findings. I have not done what I need to and in the process have also not done what I want to do . Now it's crunch time. The report has to be submitted by Friday. Finishing this thing, getting it onto paper and ending it is like a refined form of torture. It's not that the topic hasn't been intriguing and relevant it has - it's just not done. That's the problem.

It reminds me of another form of torture I subjected myself for a lot longer than I ought to have simply because I couldn't bring myself to end it. That was when I used to get a monthly massage from a naturopath who was not only poorly qualified but also terrrible at the art of massage. It was not relaxing, or refreshing. It was awful. The person in question used to talk all the way through the session - there was no soft relaxing mood music , no nice oil burning in the background and no soft lights. No - there were hard hands and  bad monologue. I heard all about the bad mariage, the arsehole of an ex , the troublesome teens and I lay there like a slab of meat being pounded for the barbeque  month afer month. Finally I got stronger in myself to ask the question? Am I enjoying this? Is this fun? Is this in my best interests?   I had my answer and after that I never went back. 

That's another question I've been pondering a lot lately. Asking myself which of all the things I do and agree to do are in my best interests. That is a hard one and one that sometimes people around me resist as I try to do   what is right for me .Recently I have been called selfish and heartless because I declined an invitation to do something with some people. I'm getting better at living with criticism as well. So much so that when the young girl told me recently that the machine had diagnosed my skin age as being that of a 47 year old and how terrible that was and that now I had to buy expensive products to repair the damage I just laughed and told her but of course my skin is 47 years old as am I!! And no thanks to the skin products.  Sunscreen will do the trick.

So make this week one in which you put your own best interests first.  You'll be glad you did. Cheers Marg