Lately, when I speak to friends whom I haven't seen in a while, I hear the same question: "So, what have you been up to?" Sadly, the first thing that comes to mind is the w word: W-o-r-k. That makes me a wee bit sad, since I'd like to think I am more than just my work. For many years I enjoyed being at work more than being at home but now the opposite is true. I get worked up by the slightest things, feeling pressure that I create myself, or reacting to a colleague whom I am now referring to Rapunzel. Work always seems on my mind, and I worry that my particular job has a stigma I am well aware of. The person I replaced had a nervous breakdown. She was consumed by the job and eventually couldn't bear to come to work. She's now delivering pizza. I am feeling that consumption when I know I don't need to. I'm not going to be nominated and inducted into the library hall of fame. It's just not that important.
What have I been up to? I prefer to hide at home, in the company of L or alone. Why can't I answer the question by saying things like, "I've been reading a lot of non-fiction?" or "I'm baking again?" It's no one's fault that I don't always get much accomplished when not at work, because I relish the peace I have at home. Still, I'm ashamed I'm not doing more with myself.
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2 comments:
I find myself so wrapped up in the minutia that I am not enjoying as much as I think I should. Part of it is wrapped around my current self worth. I may have to explore that in an entry soon.
A lot of times I come home from work wondering if I should be doing more stuff at night. But even though it's always fun to find a hobby, sitting on the couch all night watching the TV all night is fine too. Everyone needs a break.
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