I am sure that I am no busier than anyone else. We are all busy and even if we are not that busy we feel busy because, just as we will tend to spend what we earn, we will fill time with thoughts if not actions: *takes a week off – goes mad*
Days, at the moment, have a particularly frantic flavour. Can I have lunch? No, are you insane? Who has time for lunch? Do I feel like a chat? Always, but it’s not going to happen. Have I done this, this and this? No, but can you just let me finish doing this before I have to get all heart-poundy about that, that and the other? I don’t stroll, I storm, I don’t sing in the car, I make those boring calls to doctors and lawyers and plumbers and electricity companies and insurers.
And so, come 6pm, that’s your lot guys. I’m done. Shut up shop. Left the building. No one will get nothing off me. I won’t answer an email. I won’t answer the phone. Nothing. I am burnt out and re-charging with telly and a long bath and as little conversation as humanly possible. Going out is a punishment. And then I wonder why I feel lonely.
But the truth is I am ruled by fear of burn out. I can keep going like this for now. But add anything else into the equation and it simply won’t balance. The maths won’t work. The energy isn’t there. And I don’t know what to do about it. Other people bounce off into their action packed evenings. How?