Yesterday I was grumpy and bored, but I did a right speech act despite myself. When my husband asked if there was something he could do, I told him it was my problem I was bored, and I'd figure it out for myself, he needn't feel responsible in any way. It was the truth. I could go out, call a friend, work on a quilt, and I did none of those things. I was out of sorts. I forced myself to suffer, when it was entirely unnecessary, but at least I didn't even pretend it was someone else's fault.
And immediately, after absolving my poor husband of responsibility, I felt better. I began reading a very interesting book: "Evening Thoughts" by Thomas Berry, and my mind became engaged, and I relaxed. I was not doing anything much by choice, and I felt a whole lot better after admitting it. Today I have activities planned, and have walked the dogs and made a dreaded phone call about my brother's estate, so perhaps some of the irritation I was feeling yesterday was about the phone call. It went fine, and tomorrow I will go to the business and turn in the papers and get the show on the road.
Blaming, even blaming myself, is not helpful. But taking responsibility did have an impact. It was practically magic!
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