I should be writing a paper. But I’m not. I’m writing this blog in a vain attempt to gain some sanity.
Work. I am overworked. I cannot list the amount of work or tasks or things that I am responsible for at work. Seriously. Like I’d have to log for 2 months probably to get them all down. There’s beauty in what I do. Variation. Excitement. Little oversight. And a pretty office with a wall of windows. But there are sooo many interruptions. And sooo much stress. And everything is priority. And no one else knows how to do it. Very few instructions yet inaccuracies are not allowed. I have to read people’s ideas/emotions/personalities in order to assume what they want. Most of the time I get it right. Sometimes I get it wrong. I focus on the big things because the small things should come naturally right? But recently I keep forgetting the small things. I crave something more fulfilling.
School. I actually love school. The requirements aren’t unexpected and the work is actually mostly enjoyable. Yet I’m behind. And being behind in an online school environment is a quick road to failure. If I enjoy school, why is it difficult for me to participate? It’s that initial push. The first three sentences. After that my mind and my fingers take off. But those three initial sentences are as difficult for me as giving up completely. I’m in my 5th of 9 courses for my masters. I thought of quitting yesterday. My husband was there to remind me that I don’t quit. It isn’t in my nature.
Kids. Probably my favorite part of my life. I made a pledge to be more active in the kids’ education. So I joined two PTO boards. (Initially 3 but I just cannot) I’ve already signed up to a committee in one and I’m willing to do more. At home the kids are chaos as usual. But they bring so much fun and joy and love into my life it is unbelievable.
Home. I can’t even. I’ve always been bad at laundry—but it’s on a whole new level now. Life goals are to be able to afford someone to help me in the house. Seriously. Keep your cars, bags, jewelry—I just want help.
Mental. I’m a mess. A hot fucking mess. My meds are managed—but you can’t possibly have the stress I do and be okay. It is not my goal to be emotionless—it’s to be normal. And the feelings I feel are normal under the circumstances. For the first time in my life I truly feel like there needs to be more hours in the day. I don’t have time to do anything I want. Craft. Write. Read. Nothing. Work. School. Kids. Sleep. Repeat. I have surrounded myself with self-affirmations but still I’m a mess. Because I know I can. I know I’m worthy. I know this is temporary. I know I have to continue to work hard. I value myself. I am confident in my abilities. I know I’m a success. And it is possible to be/know all of that and still be a big ass mess. I’m a prime example. Am I too hard on myself. Sure. What is my limit? So far when I’ve reached it I simply up my meds. “Yes I can do that” (while scheduling an appointment to double my meds). “Of course I can” (while adding another anti-depressant to my collection).
Now that I’ve officially vented, I think it’s time to sit back and prioritize my own life instead of my 9 manager’s calendars. Or my work. Or my papers.
~Successful people are not gifted. They work hard and succeed on purpose~