When my husband and I met, we started dating
immediately. We lived five hours apart.
After a month of dating – or, in other words,
seeing him three times total – I asked him if he wanted to go with me to Europe
in six months. He said “okay.” We went to Europe.
We wanted a dog. We got the first one we looked at. She was sick and puny and full of worms.
Pretty much every piece of furniture that we
have was purchased or acquired on impulse.
Sure, we’ll take that bedroom suite that nobody wants. We’ll take that one, too. I’ve gone into the discount store for toilet
cleaner and sandwich bags and came out lugging an end table.
Two years ago we decided to pave a good portion
of our small backyard for a basketball court.
There are hundreds of wine corks hot-glued to
our dining room wall. I don’t know if
I’ll have to repair the wall when they come down.
My answer to every question of “Do you want to
go to…?” is YES.
I wouldn’t say that I am a risk-taker exactly,
but impulsiveness is definitely a trait I claim. I regard every pack of gum in the checkout
line as a necessity, at least for a moment.
My impulsiveness is not out of control, I think
– just like an addict would. I can
research, think things through, deliberate.
I have done these things, am quite good at these things. But in certain matters, what’s the
point? More times than not, I feel good
about an impulse, and there’s no use in going through the motions of
deliberating, especially if I’m not hurting anyone emotionally, physically, or
financially. What’s the use in
overthinking things? I’m not buying a
Corvette to replace my minivan. I stay
well within the lines of what’s appropriate and practical for average people. I own only one white sequined party dress.
The problem with impulsiveness is that it seeps
into every area of life – the ones that can hurt people if you’re not
careful. I have a snap temper, saying
harsher things than I should at times, and like to appear witty and irreverent,
a quick-on-the-draw word vomiter who says inappropriate things to people I
don’t know well, who don’t know and love me yet. Yet.
I do the same among people who do know and love me. They roll their eyes, say “that’s enough,” and
change the subject quickly – quickly! – when I go off. They save me from myself. I am indebted to them.
Impulsivity does not always have a brake pedal.
I realize my character flaw almost
before I reveal it, and I reach for it just as I let it fly into the faces of
those around me. Sometimes I can charm my
way out of it, but not always. And I don’t
often feel charming. Lucky for me, my
impulsiveness came packaged with a large dose of humility. I’m a professional apologizer; words said
without thinking are definitely bitter-tasting.
I like to think that I am taming this part of
myself, that I leave the impulsivity for harmless behavior and life-enriching things
that I feel good about trying.
Like winging off to Europe with my future
husband, or owning a white sequined party dress.
I highly encourage both of these things.
*******
This post inspired by:
Mama Kat's Writing Workshop
Mama Kat's Writing Workshop
Prompt #3: Write a blog post inspired
by the word: impulsive.
I am very impulsive at times about certain things as well.
ReplyDeleteMy blog has probably 45 blog posts that can attest to that.
As can the trampoline in my backyard.
At least you can get rid of a trampoline. A basketball court is hard to put out at the curb with the trash when you're done with it. :/
DeleteI want to see that sequinned dress.
ReplyDelete