A text I receive far too often: Are you dead?
I see my dorm as much as I seem to see sunlight—almost never. I rise before the sun at 5AM every day, and then I return home typically around midnight on a regular basis. The majority of my interaction with my roommates has recently been over Twitter and when we’re all asleep.
My new plan of “productivity and proactivity” leaves almost every minute of my day scheduled with something—whether that be a mandatory class, an allotted period to feed myself, or time for human social interactions. My belief has always been that I have the same number of hours in a day as Obama, Beyonce, or Oprah. There is no reason why I can’t be just as productive, and working toward grand things as well.
However, I have reached the point where lethargy, or plain lack of productivity makes me physically uncomfortable. During every activity, my mind is continuously wondering how I can be multitasking at the same time. Am I becoming… a workaholic?
Although I love this new motivation for myself, I sometimes wonder when my “crash” is going to come. It’s like I can foresee the day when I just break down, and I won’t have the strength to be a Thomas the Tank Engine then. I often wonder when the “push” will become too much—and how I’ll be able to tell when I need to stop. Whoever said “know your limits” was clearly God because I never know how much I can handle until I fall off the brink of sanity.
I assuage myself every night with the reassurance that I will catch up on sleep the next night—only to find myself in the same ceaseless cycle. How many 4-hour-sleep nights will I really be able to handle? How many activities can I cram into my schedule before I start sacrificing more mealtimes than I already do?
How much is enough?
Perhaps it’s time to discover the foreign concept of balance. I love how I now accomplish more things in a day and procrastinate much less, but I’m beginning to contemplate how “worth it” over-working myself is. I suppose that’s what part of this Exploration mission is.
Turns out, my university provides free tuition for people whose roommates have died… but for now, Han and Syd, you’re going to have to keep on paying. I’m going to plan on sticking around.
Be gentle with yourselves, friends. I should start listening to my own advice.
