If I were to witness my children pushing each other around . . . or pushing someone else around . . . surely I’d put an end to it. They’d get scolded and be given a time out or some other punishment for doing something they know they shouldn’t be.
So, why is it that I push, push, push myself, and think that it’s okay? I had this lightbulb moment at 11:30 last night, while finishing a load of laundry, working on Christmas cards, getting TKD uniforms packed for Wednesday’s class, and assisting St. Nick with the stocking duty. I realized that I’m continually pushing myself to do “just one more thing” that absolutely HAS to be done. And I’m exhausted. And I wonder at what point, I’m just going to collapse in true exhaustion from the abuse I’m putting myself through. It’s not okay to push myself. I should take a time out. I KNOW better than this.
And yet, there’s that nagging feeling that if I don’t do this stuff, no one else will, and life will consequently be difficult and disorganized . . . so I do it anyways. Sigh.
The holiday season. Not for wimps.
I so need a nap . . .
