crazy busy

There seems to be a critical balance for me when it comes to feeling fulfilled. I know that a lot of my friends, family, and coworkers really enjoy their days off. It’s something they look forward to. Me, however, not so much.

I find deep and real satisfaction in a good days work. The worst feeling I’ve found is laying in bed at night and staring at the ceiling, still full of energy that hasn’t been spent. If I haven’t built something, shared something, or completed something constructive, I find myself feeling restless, “unworthy” of sleep.


This summer has been a real season of rest for me. Typically, in summers past, I’ve filled up every evening with some kind of activity. If I’m not at work, I’m making plans with my friends or family. There is rarely an evening that’s not spoken for.

But this summer… It’s been a lot of evenings alone, a lot of evenings staring at my iPad screen, sweeping myself away into alternative realities, dreaming of the future, outlining my workouts for the week, making dinner… the list goes on. Really simple stuff.

I wonder why I don’t like it. I wonder why I feel so restless and alone.


I can’t really put my finger on it, but I think I’m more of a people person than I realized. People need people, and I suppose I’m one of those people.

But at the same time, there needs to be space for the margin. There needs to be time to just be. I need to learn how to find fulfillment in the margin instead of counting down the days till I don’t have any time left not spoken for.

Because, honestly, I love being busy.


When I was in high school I read this book called Crazy Busy. It was about falling away from this idea that we have to do it all. The lie that we have to be able to do everything in order to be successful is a lie, nobody can do everything well. We are meant to specialize (this is beginning to sound like a economics lesson), it’s more efficient, it’s better for our souls, and it’s a certain way of feeling content.

So, I guess it’s just a matter of finding what I’m supposed to specialize in. (??)

Ironically, our education system, even in the collegiate years, doesn’t necessarily make that any easier. We declare a major, we commit to an interest, but we are still required to take all sorts of other classes: “gen eds.”


These are really just musings. Are some people just meant to be busy and others meant to take it slow? Or have I just let the American mentality of “go, go, go!” become my own?



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