I've been on an accidental hiatus from blogging recently. With the start of a new school year, I just got busy and neglected to make the time to write. Things have slowed now though. At home, we're pretty well adjusted to a new weekly schedule and the back-to-school frenzy has subsided at work too. So here I sit with a few moments to myself thinking about how long it's been since I've written anything.
I love to write. Have I told you that? Well, I do. Writing is therapeutic for me. It makes me think. It forces me to string together all the random thoughts bouncing around in my head to form some sort of coherence.
Here are my thoughts for today: Why do I feel the need to be busy all the time? Why do I equate busyness with importance? I mean, not all busy people are important people. And there are lots of very important people who aren't busy. Maybe it's a societal thing. The stereotypical American woman who can "do it all." I'm not sure when I bought into that.
I like to be busy, productive, efficient. Too much downtime is frustrating and even depressing for me. But, I want my busyness to be worth something. I guess what I'm saying is I want to be busy with things that matter. I want to be able to look past the frustrations of my job and just do my job well. When I get home, I want to be able to ignore the laundry and dirty floors and just sit and play with my kids. I want to be able to see myself as more than a completer of tasks. Although completing things does satisfy me, I want to be able to find satisfaction amid chaos too.
So tonight maybe I won't wipe down the countertops or balance the budget or talk about the upcoming weekend's events. Maybe I'll read or play Power Rangers or cuddle with my hubby. Maybe I'll be more than a machine powered by the expectations of others. Maybe...