If you looked up the definition of sheepish, you’ll probably find my face right there. Mostly due to the fact that I have been neglecting this journaling habit, which was something I held quite proudly of for last year.
2021: never missing a week!
2022: does ‘a week’ mean anything, actually? what is this archaic concept of time we hold ourselves to? why have we shackled ourselves—
This entire second half of the year has been a test that I have been consistently failing, I think. I find myself buried with work, and burying myself with more of it. My free thoughts are fleeting, consumed by the things for work I’m wasting time not doing right now and the things I should be doing, but I don’t have the mind space to sit down for them right now. It’s pretty dire, and in no way strategic.
Or any good for my mental health, that I know for sure.
I talk about putting guard rails a lot, but I also kick them down on my own volition. There are things I know I need to be better at:
Better at saying no.
Better at managing my expectations.
Better at putting myself first.
Which, yikes, sounds kind of like a humble brag, no?