A great deal about busy-ness

Three years ago I was so busy that at times I would be driving somewhere in my car and realize I did not know where I was going. I would say to my assistant, "Gillian, where am I going?" She quietly and calmly reminded me, and then we would burst out laughing together. Or, she would be telling me about my appointments for the day, and I would ramble off onto another seemingly urgent topic, and once again she drew my attention back, quietly and calmly, saying, "Tamar, focus. Just focus." And then we would burst out laughing together.

And then ... one day ... we moved to Philadelphia and my busy-ness came to a complete stop. It was traumatic. Indeed. Suddenly, from one day to the next, I felt invisible, a ghost, anonymous, worthless, a nobody.

This morning, I realized that, once more, I am full of busy-ness. In fact, recently at work, I made a decision that means I am invested again. I feel ownership, belonging, and caring. There is a lightness of step and energy in the way I walk. As I enter the classroom my head is held high.

And yet ... it is not that work-a-holic type frenzy I experienced living in Buffalo, as if drugged and blocking out of the turbulent me inside by work, work, work. This time, the projects are considered deliberately, intentionally. My expectations of self are more in line with what I really feel I can do. I do not feel blotted out, in a whirl-wind dream of self worth equivalent to the amount of stressful frenzy. It is calmer. I feel in control of my choices, and even remember to take care of my inner life, physical needs, or spiritual desires.

Of course, there is still one important area of my life that needs nurturing. I am aware of that, and am thinking about ways of addressing it ... not on this blog, though ... or, at least ... not yet ...

I look back to a year ago on my blog and find that yesterday, a year ago at Mining Nuggets, I wrote about a lightness of being. Apparently I was on my way to ... today.

Comments

[tamar]

When I live part of each year in Israel, where I am a relative newcomer, I often struggle with feeling as you describe, "invisible, a ghost, anonymous, worthless, a nobody." Your language captures my yukky distorted self-image, and reading your post reminds me that I need "... not feel blotted out. ..." Thanks for helping me to name the feeling, which I now can hope to dispel more quickly.

[Jean]

Sounds good :-)