Dog Walker.

I took a job as a dog walker today, have committed to walking my neighbors two dogs one hour every week day.  Its good pay.  I will get in shape.  I can listen to books on tape.  I have to show up every day - at ANY time during the day - so essentially I’m making my own hours.  Sweet side-gig, and I’m terrified. 

Showing up for myself everyday to exercise,to get a specific task done by a set number of hours, this has not been my strong suit.  I know it is what most folks in the world call “work”or a “job”, and I’ve done my fair share of them throughout my life yet….

Now, after 35 years of child rearing and not really being in the “outside of the home” work force I feel like I really don’t belong anywhere.  I’m in a sort of job purgatory.  Too old to start over, too young to not do something. I’ve submitted multiple applications for positions like Nanny, Writer, Admin Assistant, Personal Assistant…and the reply has been; crickets.  

It has been hard for me to be accountable to myself lately. I was always making sure one of my kids got to an appointment on time, or that forms were filled out and submitted, basically being accountable FOR my children and that WAS myself.  Now they are self sufficient and I find myself a bit lost.  

With benefits like extra cash (the pay is great!) the consistency (yeah routine!), the being out in nature (fresh air!), the exercise (been moaning about losing last 5 pounds!), the getting an hour or so to listen to a podcast or book on tape (another thing I”ve wanted to do for a bit), basically doing anything “good”  for myself on a regular basis hasn’t been a constant in my life.  My inconsistency was my constant. I’ve been longing for years to find my discipline. Yet here I am languishing over this decision about walking dogs on the regular.   

In retrospect I’m grateful that I’ve had such variety in my life.  Raising four kids, it was something.  It was definitely not boring.  And when it was, which was rare, the pause was a relief.  Now boredom has seemed to settle over me, like a lovely old quilt, that smells, “only a little’ of cat piss.  Somehow comforting and familiar and somewhat uncomfortable, but still longing.

 I haven’t been able to keep a routine, especially a morning one, yet I’ve “wanted” to for quite a while.  I have wanted to exercise regularly but somehow the equipment sits and sarcastically collects dust.  My “home practice” is almost extinct, lets say its on the endangered list.  I once taught yoga so I could again “show up for myself” if even through the commitment to others.  

Slowly I’m finding my own rhythm, my own pace, with a lot of stumbles and flat out falls into the pit of self doubt, quickly followed by the depth of despair.  This ugly spiral is fueled by my own self judgment.  Step by wobbly step, I hope to commit more to myself on these self care routines, habits, desires, but until that day seeps into me like a habit, I’m a dog walker.