Recently, I've noticed that I rarely leave myself room for spontaneity, for little adventures, for the dirt, wild flowers, and idea generating blue skies. For the simple things that I love so dearly.
Why? There is a chance that, due to my rather serious demeanor and need for "productivity" even when I'm not feeling at my best, that I am a workaholic. That even though I recognize and so often crave the presence of the wild, I have a hard time letting go. I have a hard time letting myself do anything other than work - using "work" as a broad term here.
Now, this constant need to "work" might also come from my not so wonderful track record of past jobs, where much of the blame weighs heavily on Lyme and the limitations it brings. That until I can feel secure on all levels, I can't slow down.Read More