It's late and I'm tired.


I started out this morning (well, late last night really) doing something stupid. My old boss called, needing me to get her out of a bind by editing some documents. This was not a request that particularly bothered me, as it was much easier than she had made it out to be, plus I would be paid for my efforts. I can handle that.


The bad part is, however, that this opens the doors to all sorts of other requests she might have.


When I left my job- the one with all of the psycho dieting co-workers- my boss offered to let me work entirely from home. I knew where that would lead. She would genuinely need something, as she has the habit of being overworked and getting herself into binds. One request would turn into another...and another...and another. That's the way our relationship works. I don't think she consciously takes advantage of the fact that I feel a lot of empathy for her. But there you have it.


That's why I'm feeling some sort of dread, that I have opened the gates for more and more requests. I know I have the choice to say no at any further date. That yes, I can feel sympathy and empathy for her situation, but also feeling sympathy and empathy for my particular situation. And say no if that would be best for me.


I feel that I'm not really doing anything "important" at the moment, so I have no right to turn my boss down. She's working, I'm not, ergo I'm obligated to help her out. I feel lazy, playing with my beads, trying to recoup some of my costs, reading, preparing readings for class, etc. It doesn't feel like work. I don't feel productive.



Yet when I create is when I'm most productive. The lifting of the depression and the stabilizing of my moods has helped in that respect, in all areas except my poetry writing. I write kick-ass poetry when I'm suicidal. However, I can deal with a dearth of poetic impulses for not laying in bed all day and a little vacation in the psych ward.


Creativity is central to who I am. Of course, beading and crochet and sewing and writing are things I do. But the urge to create, the need to create, is a core need of mine. I can't function without those outlets. When anorexia stole these abilities from me, that was part of the reason my soul shriveled up and died. I could not keep it alive without the ability to create things, to create ideas, to turn them into reality.


That is often what keeps me going.


I know I have issues with needing to feel productive all the time.


Reading for fun = Not productive
Reading for class = Productive


Making my jewelry = Not productive
Managing my online shop = productive


These divisions are quite artificial. If I had never read for pure enjoyment, I never would have ended up a writer. If I didn't make any jewelry, I wouldn't have anything to sell. I get that. I just have a hard time letting myself relax. It's hard when no one else in my immediate family (my brother aside, but he's an anomaly in more ways than that) really allows themselves to take a break. And to take a break and not feel guilty about it.


I think that is the key thing. I relax and feel fine with it. That you don't have to earn it. There are times when you do have to put it off temporarily. If your kid is puking broccoli all over the floor and you want to read the newspaper, nuh-uh. That floor needs to have broccoli removed. For me, though, there's always a puke-covered floor. Always something I feel needs attending.


This worries me about school next year, that I may have taken on so many things that I will drive myself quite batty with everything I have to do. My program is more about learning the craft of science writing rather than learning specific facts and details, which is quite the relief. But even so, it doesn't mean I will be devoid of all work to do.


I don't want this year to be a repeat of the last 6 years I spent in school. They were miserable. I know that creative outlets aren't a luxury, they're a necessity, and I need to treat them as such. It's difficult for me. I want to say, "Yes! I'm going to do it! I'm going to set time aside just for me!" But I can't. I just can't promise that. I feel bad that I can't promise, but to do so would be a lie.


But sometimes, reality is what it is, and I have to deal with it. Whatever way I can.