“Welcome to the inner workings of my mind
So dark and foul I can’t disguise
Can’t disguise
Nights like this
I become afraid
Of the darkness in my heart.”— Ms Mr, “Hurricane”
My handsome California friend (you know, the one who sent me wine from Napa that got stolen at this dump I live in) posted on Facebook Friday. And it got me to thinking.
I was killing myself to end my day early because, on the second workday of the year, I was already burned out.
He worked a 14-hour day where he wrote a book chapter and did a whole bunch of other stuff that had him PUMPED.
He’s quite the Renaissance man, too. Plays guitar and sings, has horses and a gorgeous dog and cat, loves his wines and basically loves the shit out of his wife and life.
And it occurred to me that even though I work and try hard, I don’t have that, “OMG I LOVE MY LIFE” feeling at the end of every day. Or any day with the exception of my recent and altogether too short vacation.
I want to feel that way. That’s not a resolution for the new year. That’s a resolution for NOW.
My anxiety is killing me. Quitting early only leaves me feeling incredibly nervous — either that I’ll be replaced with cheaper, less-sassy labor or that I’ll have to work 80 hours next week to make up for it.
I’m never really sure which is worse. But I’d also like to NOT find out.
Like the old Garbage song, “I’m only happy when it rains,” apparently I’m only relaxed when I’ve given every ounce of energy to everyone else. I just wonder how I can give what I can, still keep my job and give some more to me so that I am better-equipped to keep going and serving and doing and producing and, maybe this year, dreaming up big ideas too.
Any suggestions from the peanut gallery?