::reality check::

About a year and a half ago a few of my friends had an intervention because I was too busy. Not joking. They told me they were worried I was wearing myself out and needed to cut back.

My initial reaction to this was something like this:
They don't think I can do all of this? They don't think I can handle it? They'll see.

And then:
Am I not handling it? Am I not pulling everything off perfectly? I need to do all of this better then. Move faster, sleep less.

Then, finally, I landed somewhere closer to reality and realized they were right, at which point I put myself on a strict schedule of spending at least one night per week at home. Coming home from work and just being there - no new workout classes, no dates, no meetings, no dinners.

It was insanely hard at first, but eventually became my rhythm. And by this summer, I was actually keeping more than one night open each week - I had really, positively made a habit change. In fact, I went on somewhat of a quest to unglorify busy, where I even learned that busy does not equal self worth.

But, old habits really do die hard.

And I write to you today as one overbooked, underslept, caffeinated girl.

I fell off the wagon.

A few nights ago I was talking to Allie, as I was rushing home at 7:30 to be picked up for a date at 8. She said, "are you excited for your date?"

At which point I burst into her tears. Not your normal reaction to a date.

I'm running on five nights in a row of five hours of sleep. I am so behind on phone calls to my friends it gives me anxiety. I haven't had an unplanned night in two weeks - and have something every single night this week, not to mention a wedding shower to throw Saturday, a flight to Vegas Sunday and a flight to DC next week.

And the sickest part of all? I not only did this to myself, but I also kind of love it.


An addiction to busyness is no joke, my friends.

So. I need a plan.

Always need a plan. [AKA: the problem]

Starting today - and from Vegas to DC and back to Atlanta - things stay the same. There's no way out.

But then, upon my return to Atlanta, I slow down. The last 10 days of February are being dedicated to what February should be dedicated to: full hibernation.

Just kidding. I'm not going to pack snacks and disappear for 10 days.

I am, however, going to force myself to leave two weeknights each of those weeks open. That's right. four out of 10 days. 40 percent. Almost half.

It's a plan. And I hope that with it I can finally call a few friends back and give them the focused conversations they deserve. Heck, I might even eat dinner at home and get to bed early.

With it, I hope I can get back to feeling like I'm doing the things I love and care about well, as opposed to doing the things I'm committed to at a mediocre level.

Lots of hope for this time ahead :)

I'll keep you posted on how it goes, of course.

PS: It can't go without saying that I'm super duperly excited about said events/parties/trips/opportunities and so grateful to be included. :)