You guys, I’m exhausted. Since Kevin and I got back from Chicago last week we have both been going non-stop.
It dawned on me the other day – this first year of having quit my job is going fabulously so far, I could not have imagined it would work out the way it has – but once it’s over, I think I will look back on it as a hard year too. Sometimes, it’s hard.
There’s a certain sense of pressure to make it all work, to succeed, to accomplish this thing I set out to do. Of course, I’m already doing it, so there’s no sense dwelling in places that aren’t happening now, but we all know that’s easier said than done.
I am so lucky to have so much support and unconditional faith from my mom, my stepdad, my boyfriend, my friends, my cousins, my aunt and uncle, even my therapist. I am a lucky young lady. And I would not be able to do this all without their undying encouragement.
I don’t feel pressure from them to succeed, interestingly. The pressure is from the inside out. I know this life – one I’ve built for my own fulfillment – is possible. So I try to prove it to myself daily.
Even though the next month, with all of its unknowns, always lurks around the corner, I’ve got to remember to check in with where I am right now. I’ve been pleasantly surprised so far, so there’s no reason to assume that won’t keep happening.
I’ve been working long hours and I’m tired. I go non-stop most days. I lay on the couch at night for maybe 30 minutes, if that, before I pick up the next task or project that I work on until early in the morning. These aren’t complaints, just observations. Nobody else has created this but me, so it must be how I work best. Better to turn off the judgment.
This tired is a good kind of tired, though. Tired to the bone from having worked hard for what I want.