Confession: I Am a Workaholic

This realization should come as no surprise to me. But it kinda does. When I take time off, I feel guilty for not working. And then I feel guilty for not enjoying some down time while also feeling guilty about not working. It’s stupid, really, to feel guilty for feeling guilty. Stupid or crazy.

It’s not that I can’t rest. I can. But I must force myself. I must actively redirect thoughts as they stray back to work and household chores and the things I should be doing instead. (Note: should is a guilt work. When you find it, kill it. Kill it dead.)


Words To Live By

Trust to your instincts
If it’s safely restrained
Lightning reactions
Must be carefully trained

Heat of the moment
Curse of the young
Spit out your anger
Don’t swallow your tongue

Stick it out
Don’t swallow the poison
Spit it out
Don’t swallow your pride
Stick it out
Don’t swallow your anger
Spit it out
Don’t swallow the lies

Natural reflex
Pendulum swing
You might be too dizzy
To do the right thing

Trial under fire
Ultimate proof
Moment of crisis
Don’t swallow the truth

Each time we bathe our reactions
In artificial light
Each time we alter the focus
To make the wrong moves seem right

You get so used to deception
You make yourself a nervous wreck
You get so used to surrender
Running back to cover your neck

-Rush, Stick It Out

Time is a Trickster

Time is a shapeshifter. Sometimes it’s a hill, and I have to work three times as hard to go the ten paces I could skip across with no effort were it flat ground. Other times, though (and far too often lately), time is a slide and no matter how I dig in my heels to stop, or at least slow down, gravity plus the tilt of this patch of earth are pushing me, pushing you, faster, always faster, and if we’re smart we’ll want to pause everything–there’s so much to see! so much to miss!–but if we’re smarter we’ll just forget our feet, pull our knees to our chests, lean back, open our eyes wide, and enjoy the ride. Because, see, it’s not that kind of slide at all, it’s a landslide–just the other side of that same hill.

-Leah, excerpted from Time is a… at A Girl and a Boy