I usually write antidotal advice in my posts, but, unfortunately, I do not have any clarity or wisdom to impart when it comes to my current problem. This is not something that is easy to admit to. It is something that just makes me sad.
I have jumped into a big workaholic hole. It’s actually more like a vortex than a hole. Every time I start a new job I put my foot on the accelerator and I usually do not stop until I crash into a wall. I often blog about slowing down and simplifying your life. I have to admit that since starting a new job, I have been doing exactly opposite. I have been working six and seven days a week. I am returning text messages at 10 pm at night, and my son reacted like I was a visiting aunt when I showed up at the park the other day. He was so excited to show me everything he has mastered over the last two months and refused to let me push him on the swing, as only his nanny could do this properly. Of course, a little part of me died when he rejected my efforts to help him.
My son has become so accustomed to ordering take out. One night I mustered up enough energy to throw a frozen pizza in the oven Mr 3 wanted to know when it was delivered. This is of course a far cry from the balanced and nutritious meals my own mother cooked 365 days a year. I no longer read books, call friends and family, do anything remotely recreational without having my blackberry within easy reach. What has become of me? I woke this morning exhausted at 9.30 am. My husband had taken my son to the park, and chatted with the moms and had coffee at a neighbors house. All the while I was lying in bed nursing a migraine and totally exhausted, dreading that I have to start a training course tomorrow - on a Saturday.
I am not known for doing things in half measures, but I wish I could push the pause button. I had a father who was a workaholic, and I remembered how his absence made me feel as a child. I do not remember him eating dinner with us or tucking me in at night. I grew up believing that was what dads did - they work all the time. I do not want to teach my son that this is admirable or necessary to achieve things in life.
Like everything, this is my choice. I could leave work earlier; I could turn off my phone after 6pm or I could make a decision to enjoy the little (and sometimes ordinary) things with my son, rather than choosing to ride on the adrenaline wave of my job. What is stopping me? Fear is stopping me. Fear that I will not be good enough, fear of not being recognized for what I do, fear that I won’t be able to achieve anything without applying the maximum amount of effort. Fear of not being enough. All the while I fear not being a good enough mother, not being a good enough wife and not being good enough to myself. It astounds me how obscured priorities become when they are clouded by fear.
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