don't want to be anything where I don't know when to stop
Sometimes productivity is better than relaxation.
Things have been somewhat stressful in my life lately, both at work and in my leisure time. That isn't necessarily an indicator that anything is wrong, but it has a tendency to leave me feeling run ragged and out of sorts. And one of the byproducts of that is I start just getting through the day. Living hour-to-hour and day-to-day and not lifting my head to look at the bigger picture. A few times in the last couple of months I've arrived at Friday night with nothing to do and no real plans for the weekend. And while a nice evening in spent puttering in front of the television is restful and good every now and again, doing so too much leaves me feeling like a loser, emotionally; I feel as though I haven't got any friends, even though I have.
This past weekend was not like that. It was a total whirlwind. After work on Friday there was a company outing to Good Times, which is rumored to be closing in April (to make way for an Ikea, eventually, if the stories are to be believed.) It snowed all day Friday, making the outing something of an adventure. Saturday I spent the whole day at Camp Denison in Georgetown, helping with construction and rebuilding to make sure that steamncinders is good to go this Spring. And then Sunday afternoon I showed up in Watertown to help dippy423 effect a move to Brookline. I only pitched in for a couple of hours, but by Sunday evening I was feeling drained and as sore as an old man.
And now it's Monday and I'm back at work (and, as thablueguy put it, grateful to just be sitting on my ass in front of a desk for the day.) And, oddly, there's a way in which this taxing and exhausting weekend was more restorative than a weekend spent sitting on my ass might have been. I worked hard, which made me feel productive. And that sense of accomplishment is good for the soul; even if the root causes of the stress in my life are still unresolved (for the moment, anyway) it's good to know that I did something, actively did something about them. Sure, what I did may have been tangential to the root causes in the first place. But activity is preferable to sitting around with anxiety preying on my mind and my dreams.
My blog is in a sad state, I know, but it's been a long Winter. Bear with me, and I'll try and get back in the habit.
Things have been somewhat stressful in my life lately, both at work and in my leisure time. That isn't necessarily an indicator that anything is wrong, but it has a tendency to leave me feeling run ragged and out of sorts. And one of the byproducts of that is I start just getting through the day. Living hour-to-hour and day-to-day and not lifting my head to look at the bigger picture. A few times in the last couple of months I've arrived at Friday night with nothing to do and no real plans for the weekend. And while a nice evening in spent puttering in front of the television is restful and good every now and again, doing so too much leaves me feeling like a loser, emotionally; I feel as though I haven't got any friends, even though I have.
This past weekend was not like that. It was a total whirlwind. After work on Friday there was a company outing to Good Times, which is rumored to be closing in April (to make way for an Ikea, eventually, if the stories are to be believed.) It snowed all day Friday, making the outing something of an adventure. Saturday I spent the whole day at Camp Denison in Georgetown, helping with construction and rebuilding to make sure that steamncinders is good to go this Spring. And then Sunday afternoon I showed up in Watertown to help dippy423 effect a move to Brookline. I only pitched in for a couple of hours, but by Sunday evening I was feeling drained and as sore as an old man.
And now it's Monday and I'm back at work (and, as thablueguy put it, grateful to just be sitting on my ass in front of a desk for the day.) And, oddly, there's a way in which this taxing and exhausting weekend was more restorative than a weekend spent sitting on my ass might have been. I worked hard, which made me feel productive. And that sense of accomplishment is good for the soul; even if the root causes of the stress in my life are still unresolved (for the moment, anyway) it's good to know that I did something, actively did something about them. Sure, what I did may have been tangential to the root causes in the first place. But activity is preferable to sitting around with anxiety preying on my mind and my dreams.
My blog is in a sad state, I know, but it's been a long Winter. Bear with me, and I'll try and get back in the habit.