Are you ready for this?
I’m trying so hard to live my best life. I could list a stack of ways in which I’m so privileged, so fortunate, so winning at life.
But what the outside world doesn’t see is that I am deeply exhausted. Deeply and seemingly permanently exhausted. Living my best life means spinning a lot of plates.
I wouldn’t change things. I do want to be the woman who has it all — successful career, stable marriage, beautiful home, healthy children. I read a poignant social media post one day which said, ‘These are the best days of your life. Right now. Today.’ That’s very true, and I know it. I am genuinely happy and blessed. It’s just that I’m totally frazzled too.
So my push-through-it strategy is to drink Red Bulls (I’m working on that vice but you have to give me something) and vent to the chasm that is the Medium platform.
Today I’m using you to hold me accountable for tackling my email inboxes (thanks in advance). It’s the summer holidays which means that things are slightly quieter on the work front (I work in education) so I foolish plan a glorious summer full of book-reading, pool-lounging, playing with the children and catching up with emails.
Of course in reality none of my plan happens, yet year after year I do not learn. I’ve managed to schedule a couple of work projects over the summer which is great for cash flow but terrible for my sanity. I am now juggling kids at home and trying to get work done.
The consequence of that… every morning I think, ‘there’s no point trying to work with the kids at my feet, I’ll wait until they’re in bed tonight and then I’ll work’… then every evening, ‘oh gosh I am so exhausted, what a long day, there’s no point in trying to work when I’m so tired, I’ll work in the morning.’ Rinse and repeat daily for 6 weeks.
I’m a hot mess. The literal sweaty type in the summer heat and certainly not the sexy dishevelled type.
Ok back to the emails.
I have three email inboxes.
The first, the main one. The one that has feels of 1990s hotmail or yahoo… [insert name][insert year of birth]. The one that makes me cringe that I still give out because it’s not terribly professional…