Confessions of an exploding lady

At the moment, my life is crazy!  Like always, it is because I’m ruled by my enthusiasms.  I’ve signed up for a few free research workshops offered by the university.  Spent one whole week doing that.  Great info, but now I just have more for the groaning to-do list:  write a few journal articles based on my MA treatise and an idea for another journal article based on my doctorate. 

That’s another giant to-do:  my doctorate which is very slowly churning.  Too slow, because I am ruled by my other enthusiasms.
DibanisaWay is about teaching people relationship skills.  I love it and want to grow it.  That will mean making time for writing proposals, workshops, doing marketing.  I just don’t have the time!
Then, I have to have fun. Visit friends, play with the kids, read, take the dog for walks, time with God, church stuff.  Can’t just sit behind my computer! 
I also have to earn money. I work for myself and if I don’t work, I don’t pay.  The problem with that is that you can always work more, longer, later at night. 
Tonight I just feel like cracking a bit.  I have way too much on my plate, but don’t want to get rid of any of these enthusiasms and necessities.  It’s a bit like visiting my favourite restaurant with an eat-all-you can buffet.  You can only eat that much and then you’ll that fat dude from Monthy Python’s The Meaning of Life.

Well, I feel tonight like I’m at the point of exploding. 
Been wondering about that this week.   When did I become a slave to my enthusiasms and more importantly:  Why?  Don’t have the answer but I am digging.  Spent a bit of time lamenting in my journal.  Always great to just write every thought down and make sense of stuff that way.  But are not that enthusiastic about journaling as I usually am.  I think it is because I’m at the edge of finding out a disturbing truth about myself – one I probably have known for some time without getting the full picture of how self-destructive I can be.  Think it has to do with over-compensation.  Ouch. 
Over-compensation means there is something I think I “under –do” or probably more true of me; if I don’t overcompensate, I probably tap into a feeling of worthlessness or powerlessness.  I think that many of us, when we can or do take the time out, can tap into that place where we question the worthiness of “me”.  If I don’t produce good work, or am a good parent, spouse, friend, I then OK? 
It’s easy to throw the mantra around that “if I think I’m OK, then its enough”. Our individualistic Western world runs on the idea of you being OK with yourself.  It’s only your opinion of yourself that counts.  I have a problem with that because it’s just not true.  We are nothing without those around us.  We were created to define who we are in our relationships with others.  Despite being indoctrinated that it doesn’t matter, it does matter what the people we surround ourselves reflect back to us.  It does matter to me, in any case.  And its not that I’ve had negative feedback from my loved ones.  It’s just that I’m wondering whether I’ll be OK with who I am my relationships if I don’t produce academic journal articles, dissertations, training courses or blogs?  If I, like Christopher Reeves, lost my ability to do anything for myself: would I think I have a right to live like he did?  Really deep inside, would I feel like a burden and feel like I could never make up the effort I ask of my caregivers?  Probably, losing one’s independence would bring such struggles.  My question though: deep down inside, would just being me be enough for others to still love me? 
It’s a vulnerable thing to put out for whoever to read and I’m deeply uncomfortable with even putting this on paper, never mind post in my blog.  But I think it’s important that I commit myself to this journey.  I can’t just keep on being a slave to my enthusiasms without understanding exactly how over-compensation is dousing the flame.  I didn't reread what I wrote or edit it.  It must stay the way it is, lest I change my mind about committing to scratching deep inside of me. 
So, dear reader.  Spare a thought for this over-compensating treasure hunter. 

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