Delayed Gratification aka Surviving This Damn Deployment
This afternoon while I was midway through my long Sunday Funday run in the pouring spring rain in Washington, I started thinking about delayed gratification. You see I’m slightly addicted to this tv show. It’s trashy and maybe a little embarrassing that I’ve watched as many seasons as I have, but it’s kind of my one trashy thing that I indulge. Anyway, the reunion aired tonight, and during my run I envisioned myself watching it after getting all the kids in bed. I could smell the mint tea I would brew; I saw the green glass bowl filled with some little snacks (have you ever have Unreal bars? They will change your life.). I imagined being snuggled up in my husband’s sweatpants and sweatshirt and watching this show as a reward from crushing this long run, AND getting the house picked up AND putting all the kids to bed on time.
Delayed Gratification.
I didn’t do these things of course. No, sir. Instead, I took a shower and realizing I still had several hours before I had to pick up the kids from my saint of a neighbor who was watching them, I snuggled on the couch and watched my trashy little show.
Now. Is there anything wrong with this? Absolutely not. AND one might argue that watching the show AFTER my long ass run was in fact delayed gratification, but it wasn’t. Not for me. Instead, it was me giving into what I wanted in the moment and not doing what I should be doing to further serve my future self (i.e getting dinner made, packing lunches for the kids for tomorrow and doing my writing so I didn’t have to stay up late putting in the work, like I am doing now.) Instead I watched the damn show. When the kids came home a few hours later, dinner was late, I was exhuasted mentally from watching trash and then having to put my mom hat back on and walk around on wobbly, exuasted legs that just wanted to crawl back to the couch. So bedtime was also late, and now here I am. It’s WAY past my bedtime for the early monday morning that is waiting for me, all because I wanted the candy now.
Delayed Gratification.
When my husband I were dating one million years ago and he was going through basic training, our only form on communication for the 4ish months was a five minute phone call on Sunday and our daily letters. I still remember the feeling rising up in my chest when I opened the mail box and found a small envelope from a certain PFC addressed to yours truly. Now, sometimes I would rip it open and read the letter right there, standing by our mailbox in the snow, but normally I saved it. I would go inside, and do all of my homework for the evening, check off everything on my do to list for the day, make a cup of tea, and then finally hours after I got the letter, I would sit down with my back against my bedroom wall, and taking a sip of tea, would open the letter. I would read it slowly, savoring every word, drinking up the information from the boy I was quickly falling in love with. When I finally finished I would kiss the letter, and put it in a drawer with all the other letters.
Delayed Gratification.
Damn, right? Like, so much freaking self-control for a baby 20 year old. When I remembered that past version of myself, I realized I needed to step up a little. So I decided my aim would be to delay some gratification in my daily life. Get the dishes done first and then make the morning tea. Get my workout in first and then check social media. Play a round of uno with my kids and then call a friend. And it all sounded so shiny, this picture I was conjuring for myself. Until I sat down to write this post and realized all at once how ridiculous I was for thinking that I needed to work on my delayed gratification, when my husband, and partner and best friend is halfway around the world. When I won’t see him for another REDACTED days. Every dogdamn day IS me practicing delayed gratification, so maybe, just maybe I need to be just a tiny bit more gentle with myself. Maybe it’s ok to eat the chocolate bar first. Maybe it’s ok to watch the show, and leave the dirty dishes on the counter and go to bed. Not all the time, mind you, because I like my shit in order, but maybe sometimes it’s ok to loosen up on everything and enjoy the moment.
HR