Sometimes I have a hard time knowing when it's OK to rest. For the last several days I've come home from work, done the absolute bare necessities at home and headed to my room. This retreat to veg in front of the TV briefly before going to sleep is accompanied by troubling feelings of guilt.
Why? Because there's still so much that needs to be done. I have at least two books to read for the class that I'm finishing up - and three papers to write (and the reading that goes along with them). My house could use a top to bottom, nothing overlooked, thorough cleaning. I could probably think of other things too...
Why am I unmotivated to do these things? Am I hopelessly lazy? That's my underlying fear. The fact of the matter is, I've been over-extended, especially intellectually, and I'm tired. I wish I had an unlimited capacity to produce, but I don't. So now I'm resting - almost against my own will to push on. I say "almost against my own will" because if my will was strong enough I would push every available minute - or maybe I'd be wise enough to plan my inactivity, so that I could make the most of it and also make the most of my work. Aye, aye, aye the inner conflict!
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