This last week had not been a terrific one. Flu threatened to take me down yet life went on, as usual, with work not slowing down for my less than 100% health. That’s what adulthood is about, right? Responsibilities. Discipline. Sleep when dead.
Growing up means being responsible not only for own self but possibly for others, too. A grown up parent understands that love isn’t only reflected in being around his/her child/ren but also in providing for him/her/them. A grown up knows that living has associated costs and bills have to be paid. And so we earn a living.
In the world of work, the call for maturity is even stronger. It is not request. It is an instruction, an order. And within the walls of that world are more responsibilities. Sometimes, despite all efforts to ensure that everything is done accordingly and properly, things still go wrong. Blame it on Murphy, really. And for those wrong decisions and oversights, the only option is to honestly accept the consequences, and from the lessons the determination to perfect the processes becomes more compelling. Discipline is a necessity!
What is discipline? According to my old Oxford Student’s Dictionary, discipline (noun) is “training that produces obedience, self-control, or a particular skill”. Oh, and yes, I still have one of those old things. I’m as equally old, or even older.
This week, I had to practice self-control. The demands of work mean that I could not write. For me, writing requires a minimum of three hours, to have substance at least, which will keep me awake until about 3am. This is on a normal day when work does not keep me in the office until after 6pm, or even later. And no, I can’t fully function with only four hours of sleep. In case it isn’t obvious, getting home does not mean relaxation, although perhaps it is my fault as I am quite obsessive and compulsive, leaving me incapable of letting the toddler’s mess be. I’d like to say not being able to write is unfair but I won’t because work pays the bills and writing, though a passion is merely a hobby. It is my fun thing to do.
Does discipline then equate to no fun? I think so. It is not that I don’t like my work. I enjoy what I do and even though I left the Accounting field once or twice, to do something more fun like fashion, being an agent for models and characters for ads, or even construction and recruitment, I have always loved the challenge of the world of finance. Discipline delays one’s gratification. It is not a bad thing at all though. Discipline results to that worthwhile reward at the end of the sacrifice. When I’m on delayed gratification mode, I pray so hard that I will still be alive to enjoy that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Surely, it can’t be fun loving discipline, self-control and responsibilities but I am growing up so my resolve will have to go with cheery disposition for optimum result. Woot, woot! The irony… No, seriously.
And sometimes, when you have the discipline to be patient, you get to have that short, tiny moment with the disciplined one. Oh yeah!
P.S. Picture above is to make me feel better.