The problem, you see, is that I can't seem to put 1/2 my effort into things. Not even 3/4 of my effort. Sometimes Eric laughs when my eyes start to droop during dinner.
"I just left it all on the field" I tell him.
Like I am still an athlete and I played my heart out. And I have nothing left of myself to give.
He smiles, but I think he is worried. Worried that my work will always drain me of my energy. That I will always bring home projects. That weekends will be filled with glitter and gluesticks for the rest of our days. He asked me if I was going to heat up my soup for lunch today. "Of course", I said, cold soup? He said "Good, because I don't think you take care of yourself at work".
When I had the time, I put that soup in the microwave, and I ate it nice and hot.
It was, you see, my dinner.
As I shoveled the snowy driveway this evening I thought, at the outset, that I'd just do a little.
Maybe just the part by the door. But then I was at the car. Ok. Just a path around here. Alright, half the driveway will do. Well I might as well do this part, too.
Next thing I knew I had shoveled the whole thing. And I mean, there was hardly a speck left.
The trouble is, I know that something's gotta give. The teacher next door tells me "Oh I used to do that WHEN I WAS YOUNG". And I hear the bitterness in her voice. But, the fortuneteller, too. Like after a certain point, she couldn't keep up with herself. And she knows I'll get there. And I know I will, too. Because I don't think I can do it all, and I don't want the things I let slip to be the things that should fill me back up again. And I don't want it all to come caving in at once.
When I was good about filling my cup, when I had the luxury of time and my work stayed at work, I would say to myself "enjoy this, enjoy this..." to get me through the lows.
I stopped myself the other day when I found myself saying "and protect us from all anxiety, and protect us from all anxiety..."
When did that change?
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