Keeping balance in my life has always been a challenge.
I either overcommit or I have too much free time. I either eat too much or not enough. I either exercise too much or not enough. I either… well, you get the idea.
In some areas, I’ve learned moderation. For long projects–writing a novel, for example–I cannot sprint. Slow and steady. One word after another. One page after another. Two pages per day if that’s all I can manage without outpacing my creativity. Some people lock themselves away and emerge three months later, sweaty and disheveled, manuscript in hand. I can’t do that, nor do I want to be that type of person. I’d rather get up, do my page count and live the rest of my day as a normal person.
But in other areas, I find balance to be very difficult. It’s easier to be balanced when the husband and the dog depend on me for certain things at certain times. During the holidays my time is so carefully scheduled that balance is easy to maintain. There’s no room for imbalance.
But today? Too many options. Too much free time.
I remember a co-worker one time talking about frittering away every morning, which was why she was habitually late to work. I couldn’t imagine it. I was, and am, neurotically punctual. To be anything else is an insult to whoever is left waiting.
But now… now I’ve learned the art of frittering, and need to rein that in a little bit.
Don’t I? Or have I earned the right to fritter for the first time? Can I just idly play computer games or sit and do nothing but stare at the wall?
Maybe I’m afraid that my frittering will get out of control. And for me, that’s a valid fear, since I’ve always had a problem maintaining balance. But maybe that’s what I’ve needed all this time, too, just a little free time alone to… waste.
Hmmm…. Seems naughty.
I might try it.