ETA: I wrote this last night while my class was watching a documentary. I thought I published it, but apparently not. Not the first time that's happened. Oops.
I'm still here. And every few days I check into the blog and feel guilty for not posting. Like, really guilty. I miss this little place I've carved out for all the whacked out thoughts my husband would politely listen to if I forced him to.
My dad called the other day to chat, and he started the conversation with, "I'm worried that you're working too much." This from a man that traveled three weeks out of the month to Indonesia and Columbia (not a drug lord, really.) And I honestly had no response except, "Yeah." I am working a lot. I try to keep it to my regular 40 hours, plus the 10 for teaching, but those 40 used to be pretty kick back. Now it's a sprint from 8:00 onward. Like, I know that I can pee in exactly the amount of time it takes me to heat up lunch. And my job is not interesting. If they taught what I do in graduate school, no one would ever take the class. Eli asked the other day, and the closest I could get to an explanation is "I read e-mails and tell people to do things." My biggest challenge is treatment hours and data entry deadlines, and defending those numbers against court-mandates. It's exhilarating stuff.
So, yeah. Not exactly what I pictured when I declared confidently that I was going to change the world. I've been getting pretty burnt out actually because it all seems so meaningless and futile. I work my ass off to ensure that we have treatment for people who don't want (and in a lot of cases need) treatment. In an effort to combat that burnout I've been adding in "good." Those things that remind me that the world is awesome and that I'm a productive member of it. Exercise. Quality time with the kids. Quality time with C. Church. Friends. The "good."
But the good takes time too. A friend told me, "You're too busy! Something's got to give!" and I fought back hysterical laughter. What could give? And I'm not sure I want to give up anything. Even my shitty stuff is pretty good.
So here's the realization that I came to tonight. Yes, I'm busy. And my natural inclination is to bitch and moan about how I'm at work missing Eli's phone calls to classmates (OMG) and that Syd's preschool teachers can't remember my name. But here's the ground shaker. I'm busy so that C can be there for those things. And my job is boring, but it's also pretty cool and pays me well. I have awesome opportunities and friends and my kids are doing cool stuff like art classes at a legit museum. I have a life that even I sit back and marvel at like, "How the hell did this happen?" What I'm missing is someone to say, "Fuck you. Shut up. Look around at how amazing this all is and be grateful!" I think that's going to be my mantra. "Shut the fuck up and be grateful." What do you think? Does it espouse the positivity I'm going for? :)