I like to be busy. When I was working outside of the home I loved the big rush. To me it made the time go buy quicker and I had a sense of pride in my ability to hold up under the pressure. I liked the challenge of maintaining a quality of service while doing it fast. I was also competitive and liked being the best at it.
Now that I work at home I don’t like it as much. The busy times are usually because something has gone wrong or because I am spreading myself too thin. I think this is so because It feels like any work I have to do is infringing on my time. I have responsibilities to my family at home and when I am there I like to focus on them. Understandable.
These last two month have been hard on me because I don’t know how much is too much. I lose sleep, I eat horribly, I stress and my house and family suffers. My poor children wore the same pants to school everyday last week as I didn’t have time to do the laundry. Oh they didn’t mind. I minded, but something had to give and this week it was my sleep, house keeping and laundry. I like my sleep, but I can’t seem to get back to it if I wake up in the middle of the night.
I know this too shall pass and in 5 years I will be looking back on this as some sort of rosy coloured blessing, hopefully. I know right now I long for the days that were 5 years ago. D would be still at home, there would be park days and best of all the best neighbours in the world would be near us. But then (like the pepsi commercial) I remember my husband was in school, we lived in a two bedroom basement suite, and there was no Jesse. To bad you can’t pick and choose.
I guess I just need to learn balance because I hate that looming storm cloud of pressure that comes with overbooking myself it really is kind of soul crushing and makes me not be my best at anything.