This past Sunday I had an overwhelming sense of guilt for… Get this… Not working more. As I complained on my new couch, my new roommate (yep, lots has happened on my end) huffed at me and told me all I do is work. That’s when it hit me.
Our interactions over the course of the last three weeks consisted of him, my work laptop, and me. Plugged in and working.
I racked my brain and asked myself when was the last time I went out carefree. Instead, I only remember abruptly leaving my friends so I could make a deadline. This happens quite a lot honestly.
Now I don’t have to ask myself am I doing more harm than good. I am. Will I look back on my 30s and hate myself for becoming so busy that I forget to live that I forget to make a life.
Most definitely.
So I closed my laptop, cracked open a delicious Grimm beer and asked my roommate to hang out with me.
We as a collective need to stop glamorizing the state of “busy” and I for sure need to stop neglecting myself before having another anxiety attack from overloading my body with stress. It’s time to wash away the guilt, realize that I’m only human and can’t do everything under the sun.
I can, however, make daily improvements (like meditating or saying yes to happy hour with friends) to make sure I’m putting in a little me time every single day.
