The exercise of a trial reward/incentive continues. There were guidelines! It's not something i've otherwise made a commitment to, like a class. It's not something from my to-do list. So, making these deviled eggs this morning -- a commitment to bring to my sister's for lunch -- it was something i "had" to do (and wanted to do and had pleasure doing).

So much of what i do when i am not at work is discretionary, or in the nebulous area of "self care", or it was discretionary when i started. The whole of the yard and garden -- these are my commitments to myself, for my pleasure and as -- hopefully -- a gift to the biodiversity of my little patch.
Years ago i wrestled with the "oughtas" from my mother's "this is what your house should look like or your are bad" and beat them to a pulp. They are still in my mind as i look at leaves and dustbunnies all around me, piles of this and that. I easily dismiss them as it's not doing much harm (another voice mutters about allergies, and i grant that's a concern) and i have other things i want to do so i let housekeeping go.
So with everything discretionary, more or less, the issue is not so much finding pleasure as motivating myself to do the things that will bring less immediate pleasure compared to immediate ease.
I'm pretty sure this is not the context for this therapeutic exercise.
Yesterday i checked out a massive collection of 1950s science fiction short stories by H Beam Piper. I think i can keep myself from reading the whole thing at once. I've made sure to get a sense for the length and my reading speed. I'm pleased with the racial diversity, and the intelligence and independence of women characters. One almost passed the Bechdel Test. If i can keep myself from getting hyperfixated on reading, where i am taken over by the need to stay in the novel until the end, i could have a little "treat."

So much of what i do when i am not at work is discretionary, or in the nebulous area of "self care", or it was discretionary when i started. The whole of the yard and garden -- these are my commitments to myself, for my pleasure and as -- hopefully -- a gift to the biodiversity of my little patch.
Years ago i wrestled with the "oughtas" from my mother's "this is what your house should look like or your are bad" and beat them to a pulp. They are still in my mind as i look at leaves and dustbunnies all around me, piles of this and that. I easily dismiss them as it's not doing much harm (another voice mutters about allergies, and i grant that's a concern) and i have other things i want to do so i let housekeeping go.
So with everything discretionary, more or less, the issue is not so much finding pleasure as motivating myself to do the things that will bring less immediate pleasure compared to immediate ease.
I'm pretty sure this is not the context for this therapeutic exercise.
Yesterday i checked out a massive collection of 1950s science fiction short stories by H Beam Piper. I think i can keep myself from reading the whole thing at once. I've made sure to get a sense for the length and my reading speed. I'm pleased with the racial diversity, and the intelligence and independence of women characters. One almost passed the Bechdel Test. If i can keep myself from getting hyperfixated on reading, where i am taken over by the need to stay in the novel until the end, i could have a little "treat."
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Extremely sad, and extremely contagious.