Life Lived Hectically

Months of bloggy silence.  Virtual tranquility.  The reality? Chaos.

The year of parental leave following Ursula’s arrival gave me time to reflect on work-life balance.  It was an internal conversation, brought into sharp focus by the tragic, self-inflicted death of a friend whose career success was the standard by which I measured my own inadequacy.

I took stock.  My approach to work would change. No more long hours and late nights.  It wasn’t effective in the long run. The balanced, rested me could clear through more and better in five hours than a worn, stressed me could in twelve. There would be time for children, family, friends, exercise, music, gardening, cooking, writing, photography, art, literature … and we would paint the house during the Christmas holidays.

Then I went back to work. That was last August.

All I will say about the work situation is that the house is still flaking, my cello lies under dust of archeological significance, my mother had to repossess a beautiful violin because it does an instrument no good to lie around un-played, and cookbooks from my birthday and Christmas lie unread. I believe I still have relatives. It is theoretically possible I still have friends. Draw your own conclusions.

Impending insanity has forced improvements.  I’ve started walking some of my commute (finally).  An extra stop a day soon clocks up and these days I get about 5km and some thinking time each day.

Now if someone could develop the technology to let me write while I walk.  Something that doesn’t make me look like a dorky, middle-aged woman in business clothes and running shoes walking the city streets talking to herself.  I come across enough of those already.

 

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