I’ve finally realized that I can’t do it all. I used to hate that saying, but dangit if it ain’t true. And really: All? I can’t even do half, it seems. I can hardly do the bare minimum required of my days lately. Yet, I have these darn things in my mind called goals.
My priorities in life are being a loving and supportive wife, a fabulous mom, a caring and appreciative daughter, a valued employee, and a great friend – all of those things while honoring God and being a devoted member of my church.
My GOALS, however, are what I want to attain personally for this particular year, and when I established them for myself, they seemed pretty simple.
1. Get my book published.
2. Write another book.
3. Run three half marathons.
I know how to be disciplined. I understand what it means to sacrifice, to be single-minded and dogged in pursuit of something. I’ve done so before. It’s what I had to do to finish a novel. It’s what I did in order to train for my first half marathon. But looking back, I reached these goals at the expense of my priorities.
Whenever I’ve got my blinders on, racing head on towards my next goal, my so-called life priorities tend to get dumped and forgotten – usually, my husband is the first abandoned. In light of this, I’ve decided that my priorities this year must remain my priorities; and these goals of mine cannot interfere with the work I have to do in keeping these priorities. Which has left me quite anxious and, really, wondering if I will be able to manage my pursuits of keeping fit and writing stories. When the 9 to 5 is done, along with work from the part-time gig, and the family is fed and the house is clean, and the practices are over, there isn’t much time to write or run. What I’ve managed to do is take advantage of the hours when the family is asleep or when my youngest is at rehearsals, practices, and games to open the notebook or put on the Asics. Lately, it’s been the latter as I just finished my first half marathon. As great as that felt, I admit that I’ve had little or no energy to write. Running zaps me clean. Yet when I sit down to write, even if I’ve managed to put down a few hundred words, I’m left sad and guilty that I didn’t get a run in.
Ahh, First World problems. But you creative/sporty types know what I mean. And then there are those of you out there who will still give me a pathetic smirk, arms crossed, asking me why can’t I put in four miles and crank out 500 words a day. Maybe I can. Or maybe there’s a balance there somewhere. I just haven’t been able to find it yet. But I will keep trying, all while not letting my family and friends down.
Okay, okay. Time to hop on that treadmill. Or the computer. Which one? I don’t know. Hey, maybe I should add another goal to my list.
4. Become an expert on wine.
Ah, yes. This one I can handle with no problem.