Not so long ago I finished a stretch of working 13 straight days, with the last three of those being doubles. The byproduct of having two jobs and picking up a third. Even though one of them has since been forsaken, there was still a bit of overlap. But then, with training on the new job completed, and the old job having been left behind, I found myself in a lull. I had three days off, then worked two shifts, and am now in the midst of another three day weekend.
And I’m at a loss.
It’s funny, when you’re working a lot, you dream about having time off in order to do all the things on that long list of yours. ‘If only I had the time,’ I’ll tell myself while working, and daydream about being able to be incredibly productive with all the things that really matter to me. But then, here I am suddenly blessed with that time… and I haven’t accomplished amazing and wonderful things. And worst of all, there’s no longer any excuse for it! Last week I could beg off saying I was overworked and exhausted. Time? Who’s got the time? And thus I’d be somewhat content. All my grandiose visions for the future are temporarily on hold. Not permanently. Just temporarily. Waiting for that moment when I have just a little bit more time to fully engage in them.
Well there’s no contentment now. I have time, I have a distinct lack of plans during my days off, besides being productive, and yet I’m not. Or at least not to the standards I set myself when I haven’t the time to reach for them.
I’m trying to tell myself I’m filling the tanks. Taking a breather. Establishing some order in my mind in preparation for that great burst of something.
I’ll probably be prepared for that in two day’s time, right about when I’m clocking in for my next scheduled shift. And then I’ll curse the world for standing in the way of all these things I wish I had the time to do…