To be honest, I don’t feel very adventurous.
Not even the quiet simple kind of adventure that should infuse everyday life.
I don’t feel it right now.
Last night Chris said to me, “You take on more than anyone I know.”
I didn’t really agree, but I let him have it. “Yea,” I said, “but I crash and burn way harder.”
That’s how I’d describe my current season. A constant cycle of crash and burn.
I am overly optimistic about how much I can do. I overestimate my capacity and my ability because I think if I the passion and the desire is there, I should be able to execute it well.
I genuinely want to do all of the things I say yes to. I care about all of them. I want to give time to all of them.
But lately my mind is never silent. It’s like a pinball, constantly bouncing between all of the projects on my plate. I spend so much of my energy on figuring out what it is I need to do and when I need to do it.
And I’m tired.
I’d like to not do anything for awhile. I’d like to exert as little energy as possible.
My nephew just turned 10 months old and we currently live in the same house. I offered to watch him tonight, even though all I wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep.
While I was giving him a bath, he kept kicking his legs around, which made water splash, and he’d squeal and laugh. It was the cutest thing and I couldn’t help laughing at him.
He saw that he’d made me laugh, so he’d do it again and force himself to laugh. But then me laughing at him would make him laugh for real. And we entered this cycle of splashing and waves and laughs.
That’s the kind of cycle I’d prefer to be in. Making waves and belly laughing.