As I write this, it is 10:39pm on a Friday and I’m laying bed. For most, it’s considered an early night, but for me, it’s time to think. To recharge. To prepare for the day ahead.
Last Friday, I worked till this hour, and this Friday I am laying in bed running through the work tasks I need to get done before Monday. Everything I’ll have to prepare for the hectic week ahead. And yes, I am preparing for the week on a Friday night in bed.
I don’t write this to justify my absence in the writing community or to gain sympathy. If anything, I do what I do by choice. One can argue that as a mom and wife, my obligations are too many for me to just decide to quit. If that was a thought of yours, you’re absolutely right. But by the same token, I chose this life.
When I lost my dad last year, I was angry at the government for working him to his death. I was angry with the fact that I couldn’t even say goodbye to own blood because they were too concerned about protocol. While I am still angry, I have to accept that he chose to be his job. He chose the late nights and the relocation. He chose the status and the responsibility.
And here I am… Laying in bed on a Friday night, planning work tasks for the weekend.
I don’t want to admit that I have become my father. But after joking about how my daughter ate bread several nights in a row… After concluding a “project” before 5am. And after constantly waking up in the middle of the night thinking about what I missed or need to add to my to-do list, I have become my job.
Work-life balance is extremely important. If you don’t believe me, then trust my greys and fine lines. Yes, ageing is a thing, but recently I’ve struggled to recognize the person in the mirror. That girl is not taking the time to really embrace life. She’s not dancing on the couch with her toddler. She’s not planning adventurous dates with her husband, or finding ways to seduce him. Instead, she’s working even when she’s not.
“Work hard, play harder” they say.
But they don’t tell you that working hard means dedicating more of yourself each time. They don’t tell you that working a 9-5 means you’ll be working hard from January 5 to December 9th.
I joke, but my mental fatigue tells the truth. I jester about winning the lottery but my physical changes tell the story.
Writing is my passion, and yet my blog sits idle for weeks on end. Each month, I see the deduction from WordPress and each month I promise I’ll get back into writing again… Soon. I also promise to put my device away and really enjoy time with my family, yet I have bypass for Bloomberg notifications.
Unresponded texts. Unanswered calls. Missed events. Housekeepers running my household. Takeout bills exceeding most people’s rent… Is this really what I’ve become?
Who is this girl in the mirror?
I used to see my mom… but now I see my job.