The Audacity of This Freaking Calendar

Hello friend,

First, some good news. I was very happy to learn this week that I do not need to go out on the street and interview middle aged women. That was the scariest option on my list, and I believe scary is good sometimes, so it's not entirely off the table. Stay tuned. There might be a couple of those over the summer. Turns out, most of you asked for deeper questions. That got me thinking, oh that is a dangerous place.

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THIS WEEK

Here's what happened instead. I've been trying to start a summer series and for the life of me nothing was hitting. Then on Friday, about to film a calendar reel, I remembered the calendar work I used to do casually with clients as a journal prompt, and I thought, what a great way to spend the summer together. Looking at this freaking calendar. And maybe carving out some room for yourself by September.

Now, about the name. Some of you know I swear like a truck driver. For some of you this is new information. So you can imagine what I wanted to call this series. It may have been a four letter word starting with c, or one starting with f. I settled on The Audacity of This Freaking Calendar, like it's an object that can speak. And in many ways it does. It speaks volumes.

Because if we look at our calendar like a purse we've just dumped out on the table, we'll find all the same things. The stuff we love. The stuff we keep just in case. The stuff that's in there out of obligation, or by accident. And then there's the gum in the paper wrapper at the bottom, the stuff we've forgotten about entirely. I cannot tell you how many times I got a fuzzy candy from the bottom of my mother's purse. I once did a whole monologue about it in a restaurant that had my sisters on the floor. But I digress. Back to the calendar. That pesky thing. We are going to rip it to shreds this summer.

And before anyone panics, let me be clear about something. Some people think that when I tell you to start looking after your time and your needs, I mean throw your obligations and your family out with the bathwater. And sure, some days that feels like exactly what you want to do. But I am not saying stop babysitting the grandkids. I'm saying stop doing it with resentment. If it isn't working, your adult children will just have to find another option. If it is working, if you love every precious moment with them, keep it up. That's the whole sorting principle right there.

So I've created the four bags, and this summer I'm inviting you to dig into them with me. I'll be digging right along with you.

The Yes. Things you would do even if nobody was watching and nobody said thank you. The Thursday walk you guard like a dentist appointment. The garden, nobody thanks you, you don't care. Coffee with the friend who makes you laugh until you snort. The book you'd cancel plans for. Notice how big or small is this bag for you? We will be talking about that all summer.

The Love. Things you do for other people that genuinely fill you up. The grandkids at the good park. Sunday dinner for people you actually adore. Soup for a sick friend, because you wanted to, not because anyone would notice if you didn't. The drive with your mother where the drive is the good part. This bag is real and it stays.

The Performance. Things you do for other people that drain you dry. The committee, you know the one, where there's a pit in your stomach for the whole drive. Hosting the holiday, every. single. year. Because apparently your house got voted in and nobody told you there was an election. The potluck you signed up for out of panic. The group chat you cannot leave. The standing coffee with someone who exhausts you. You've been complaining about this bag for years.

The Ghost. And here's the sneaky one. The fuzzy candy bag. Things you chose, except the woman who chose them left years ago and forgot to cancel her subscriptions. The gym membership with five visits in five years. The standing Thursday call for a friendship that quietly ended in 2022. The course from 2021, still 8 percent complete. The volunteer role you took because no felt rude. And no one is coming to give you permission to quit or leave.

I even made you a little picture, and you can print it off if you like and stick it somewhere your calendar can see it.

Everyone thinks The Performance is the problem bag. It can be. BUT what is sneakier is The Ghost. Because nobody put those things in your week but you. And before you flinch at that, hear the whole thing, because it's not an accusation, it's the key.

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A QUESTION TO CARRY

Your only job this week is to count your shoulds. Every calendar entry that starts with "I should" gets a mental sticky note. Don't cancel anything. Just count. Then this Friday, The Crone Stories has a new episode for you, and the timing could not be better. Her name is Bari, and her story starts with a single sentence she caught herself saying, "I should be happy," and the moment she realised the voice saying it wasn't even hers. What she did next changed everything, and I'm not spoiling it here. Count your shoulds, then come meet the woman who stopped obeying hers.

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Hit reply and tell me the strangest thing in your Ghost bag. Your answers are going to shape where this series goes.

In love, light and laughter,

Karen

P.S. Yes, I ate the fuzzy candy. More than once. We all did.