Wildflower Writes

Photo by  Dennis Klein  on  Unsplash I had just come out of a meeting with my supervisor. My next few weeks of work were pretty much lined up for me, and I was feeling stressed. Over the course of the workday, three different co-workers popped in my office to offer me sweet snacks, including Rise ‘n’ Roll’s infamous cinnamon caramel donuts. This never happens. Some days I hole up in my office and will only see someone on the way to filling up my coffee cup. I’m not sure if everyone was feeling the first of the week/ first of the month optimism, but I love that I work with people who are always thinking about how they can improve someone else’s day. I’m not a big Valentine’s Day fan, but kindness and love are always in style. 

I have come to the conclusion that I am a human being. It may seem strange to that after 30+ years I am finally figuring this out. But I am no ordinary human being. I have lived under the presumption, inoculated in me at an early age, that I can do anything that I put my mind to. Which, over time, I’ve taken to mean that I can sleep less, eat less, exercise less, and communicate less than the average human being. I can take on school, work, family, and thirteen volunteer positions, without batting an eye. I am Super Mom! I am also bleary-eyed, overweight, moody, stressed-out and overwhelmed. One might suggest the word, “balance.” Balance seems a lot like trying to walk a tightrope. I’m pretty sure I can’t do it, so why try? Yet, I’m not sure I enjoy living like this. I have to drag myself out of bed, guzzle coffee out of necessity rather than enjoyment, bark at my children to get ready and at my husband to stay out of my way. I dread work (like most red-blooded Americans) but ...