Nah, I’m not doing that and I’m okay with that.
Sometimes I wonder if other people realize I’m human. It’s like I became a parent and (almost) everyone decided that I was superhuman. I am not capable of doing everything.
How many of us stay busy all day long? At one point I had to keep my schedule book around because I would break my day into 15-minute intervals. There was a three-year period of my life where I would drive from Zachary to New Orleans for work. I never spent less than 3.5 hours on the road. Then I either had a newborn or was expecting. I was beyond exhausted.
I used to feel guilty when I had to turn people down. They would say I have so much time on my hands so it shouldn’t be a problem. I would feel bad and pencil in whatever activity they requested between 11-11:03 pm. It would’ve been up to my standards because I would be rushing. Then I would get complaints.
I would have to be on the highway before 5:30 am, to try to beat the traffic out of Baton Rouge. (I know it starts earlier than that coming from Gonzales into Baton Rouge.) Then I would teach my college courses with the zeal and enthusiasm that I exude. Just to hurry back to spend time with my own child (who was not sleeping through the night at first). Some days I felt like a walking zombie. My family and friends would always make sure I was okay.
Then right before the pandemic, I had a moment of reflection. What am I doing? Can I really keep up this pace? Am I truly achieving many things at the level I want to?
So it was at that moment, I decided that Nah, I’m not doing that. Everyone, especially me, is suffering.
Now I ask myself before making any commitments: Is this truly feasible to complete at the highest level of excellence? Is it going to add to my level of stress? Will I feel good about completing this task?
