Before I began two weeks of holidays, I thought: At least, for the first week, I won’t think about making anything. I can start thinking about making again in the second week if I want to, but I really need to give myself one whole week without any self-pressure, without any “work.”
Then we entered the first week of holidaying and – do you get this? – I felt completely exhausted. Pooped. Going to bed early. Taking day naps. It was like I’d been running on (not adrenaline – routine? robotic routine?) empty and finally let myself crash, restore, reset.
I think that happens every single year when I have a holiday! And every time I remember: Oh yeah, in the first week I’m so tired, I just crash. And I’m still living with my everyday low-level of constant worry. And it’s not until one week has passed that I become fully aware of that low-level of constant worry, and then I can work on letting it go. And I can truly relax in that second week. Oh yeah. Duh.
I have zero need to worry. ZERO. There is nothing that I might desire for happiness that I can’t afford to buy. Like, if I would only be totes happy if I had a different haircut. Or a personal trainer. Or daily home-delivered meals. Or classes in something. Or gold jewellery. Or the ability to self-publish a book. Or a 10-day getaway/retreat just for myself. Whatever it might be. My family is in (relatively) good health and spirits. I should be totes happy and carefree.
But my low-level constant worry is about my future. About what my work will be, one day. When the kids are in school. I want my work to be more meaningful (to me) than it was. If I’m going to do something for 40 hours a week…! Of course, I could do a Cheryl Strayed and do menial jobs just to pay the bills, then my Real Work is doing something else, something creative. I think I’m being daft worrying about the future in this particular scenario. Anything could happen in the next few years – bam, we might get a UBI. I might develop a deep appreciation for capitalism and consumerism. The world might go up in flames. No, but really. I think sometimes it’s good to be a bit worried about something in one’s future, to get your butt into gear and make sure the future’s good, but I think I’m being a bit daft with this one.
I need to let go of this worry, somehow.
Some people leave their loved ones, seek out a better wage, and then send some of that wage back home, to help their families.
One of these days we’ll all realise we don’t want anyone to suffer (instead of other people’s suffering being a little problem that is swept under the rug again and again and again and again and again and forever) and we will all send money back home. One of these days.