I’ve been struggling to hold on to a sense of myself outside of over-working and burnout. On weekends I find myself lost and aimless on how to navigate the unstructured time—struggling to prioritize myself over the boxes that line up next to my professional to-do list like a Level 10 Tetris screen.
Should I rest? Watch Netflix? Clean? Organize? Write? Create? What am I trying to achieve? What do I like? Who am I? What do I do first? What time is it? How is it already 8 pm? Damn, the sun is a mind f*ck.
Compound the existential crisis with trying to get in the swing of socializing after a year of living my best hermit life, and I’m like – not awesome. I’m not terrible, but I’m not awesome.
I’m growing at an incredibly rapid rate, and I feel like I have a spiritual camel-toe high-water situation happening. Grateful for the lessons and challenges that I’m experiencing. Each day feels like I’m charging wave after wave in an endless ocean of possibilities riding a tide that seems not to be taking me any closer to the shore.
When I was about 11 years old, I had gone through a growth spurt and, unbeknownst to me, packed a bathing suit that was too small for a pool party. Excited to go swimming, I put on the teeny weeny one piece that wedged up my bum with straps pulled taught like the end of a slingshot determined to make the poly-blend work for me. I’m not exactly sure who recognized or saved me from public embarrassment, but I was set up with an old bathing suit from my older cousin to wear instead. At the moment, I was uncomfortable with wearing a suit that wasn’t mine, but it was made clear to me that I had outgrown the suit I had brought.
Growth is uncomfortable and brings on more discomfort.
Guess that’s just where I’m at, the uncomfortable state of growing into a new person and figuring out what fits.