I’ve hit rock bottom. Somehow in the last week, I’ve managed to upset pretty much every person that matters to me. And the root of all my problems is that I’m working too much.
I’ve been averaging a little over 30 hours per week because I’ve been feeling the stress of paying my rent, of buying new computers, of covering sorority dues, of buying groceries. I’m working because there’s nothing else to do and because I feel the dire need to be self-sufficient. I’m working because in some sick and twisted way, I crave the numbness that can only come from brainlessly folding thousands of over-priced sweaters for eight hours.
But the aftershock of all that work it whittling away at me. I’m not working out and I’m not eating right. I’m not spending time with my friends or with myself, and when I do have a free second, I would run away to my boyfriend’s to escape the reality of my exhausting routine.
But I’ve come to the sobering conclusion that this is not okay. My friends have complained for as long as I can remember that I don’t have enough time for them. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been working by butt off and struggling to beef up my resume. I’ve given 100% to too many things and the mathematical impossibility of that is killing me.
I don’t sleep, I don’t eat right, and ultimately, I’m not happy. Not like I should be at least. So I’ve opted to make a change.
Over the course of the next few weeks, I’m on a search for balance. I want to adequately balance my work, school, social, personal and love lives. I want to sleep and maintain my sanity. So I am cutting my workload in half, and contemplating taking out a small loan to help offset the deficit. I am trying to eat better and trying to give myself the extra tidbits of time that I deserve and need.
I’m starting an early morning bootcamp in a week and am clearing time on the weekend for my boyfriend and fun activities like apple picking and finally actually visiting the Athenaeum. I want to read for fun and write a letter once in a while.
It’s like a breakup makeover. A breakover. Only, I’m breaking away from the former half-life that I was allowing myself to live. I’m taking myself for pedicures and sushi dinners when I feel the need. I am sleeping in later than 8 a.m. I am living.
My mom has always preached that I need to have a job while in school. It builds character and responsibility and whatnot. But “Alexandra’s” mother tells her that if she has enough time to have a job, she ought to spend that time in the library. And I think both mentality’s have merit. But somewhere in there, I want to fit fun, as well.
My big brother says that I should do what I love, even if I’ve forgotten that I love it. At the time, it kind of upset me, but there’s a lot of truth to what he said. So I got thinking about what makes me happy. And it’s the little things… a good book, a surprise from a boyfriend, a text from a friend, a call from a family member. I like a clean pedicure and the slight discomfort of a full stomach. It’s cooking and cleaning and running. I even want to take a spin class.
I’m renewing my vows to myself, to my life. I’m choosing to love myself for time and all eternity, and to practice what I preach. I choose to live and love and sleep, and to devote my time to all the people that matter to me. I am again married and committed to my life. Please, presents are not necessary.
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| Nothing like a pedicure to cheer a girl up. |
