Know (and "No") the limits

 

That, apparently, is a human hamster wheel

I'm a staunch defender of my loved ones and serve as the voice of reason.

"Take a break.You're running yourself into the ground."

"One day at a time."

"Win today. Then conquer tomorrow."

These are the same things I should be telling myself and, often, don't.

"Just tell me everything will be OK," I said to someone I really trust. "But only if you mean it and it's true."

Sometimes, when the anxiety/stress/whatever is off the charts, those are the simple words I need.

"Compartmentalize. Don't get overwhelmed."

I've been on a crazy schedule of staying busy. Now, that's fairly standard operation procedure for me, but I feel like it's been on hyperdrive since Sep 4.

It was driving to and from little league games and calling them.

It was driving Sean to and from his mother's house (those days are, effectively, over).

It was (and is) constantly doing stuff at the house.

My brain runs. Not a marathon. Oh no. A sprint.

In a nice case of serendipity, I picked up the video depo position with Dan and Craig and feel like I'm actually contributing to society again. I'm not sweating every bill (as much as usual).

It's work that I'm enjoying but, as I've highlighted, can be very last-minute. There's no set schedule.

But it's also my priority, along with the Renegades, Hunt Scanlon, Connecticut School of Broadcasting (or whatever it's called now), Local Live and others that...er...pay.

I struggle with saying no.

Produce this podcast, help set up equipment, voice sounders and liners and commercials. 

There there's #The4pmBreak and Friday mornings with Tony Savino on WGCH (10 minutes, but still) and I know I'm forgetting other stuff.

Oh, and don't forget the dogs*it blog.

Vacuum, wash dishes, keep cleaning the house, feed Sean, laundry, garbage...

And then?

I collapse on the couch after having substandard ravioli in an empty, cold house after Sean has left.

And fall asleep.

At 6:30 p.m.

Within these words is some complaining, but not as much as it sounds like I'm doing.

I get it. Everyone is busy. I'm nothing special. Believe me, I know that.

Oh, I'm past grateful for the work. Somehow that will all sort out as we head into 2021, especially with the Gades truly ramping up (COVID-permitting, of course).

But some things might have to be put aside. Crazy me, but I should probably do some things for me. Which I've tried to do by allowing myself to watch Netflix (at least in our COVID world).

Oh and I'm on a web show this Sunday. More details as they become available but that gig is simple: I'll be asked questions and I'll talk. I'll talk about roads and maybe sports. Honestly, I have no idea, but I can do that.

This is why I laugh when members of the Play-by-Play group on Facebook that I am an admin for grumble over our self-promotion rule.

In short, we ask that it be limited. Of course, if Mike, Shawn and I had our way, it would be eradicated.

Keep in mind, none of us promote anything. Mike seems to always have a game going on, for instance. 

And, let's be honest, I don't promote games, "Doubleheader," "The Clubhouse," the dogs*it blog, or the -- what, four? -- podcasts that I'm a part of. None, repeat, none of it gets promoted in that group. That's why I have personal pages. 

The bigger point is that I have to stay on top of this stuff, for my own sake. I have to recognize some limits and recognize that "no" doesn't have to be fatal. I'm so used to guilt when I reject something. Old habits and old demons don't necessarily mean that past is prologue.

Paraphrasing good ol' Bill Shakespeare. That will get me some bona fides.