Today was a rough day. I have a cold that won’t quit. My kid has a cold that won’t quit. My mom went to the hospital because her cold and respiratory system decided to clock some overtime. This all meant working from home, under the weather, whilst caring for my drippy tiny tyrant. The lows were low. He broke his car lamp, stuck post it’s all over the place, colored the floor with green markers and shrieked incessantly at the top of his lungs. Work, was, well worky. Can’t say it was more worky than usual but under the circumstances it was definitely hard to concentrate or focus. With each email request or meeting arrangement I could feel my skin crawl. The back and forth of one particular exchange inspired many an eye roll and unheard “wtf’s”. Is this my life purpose? To babysit an inbox and several calendars. Was I put on this earth to ignore my health, my need to rest, and my sons need for attention to frantically schedule meetings that are only to be canceled or rescheduled? I kept wondering if it was all a sign to whisper “fuck it” to the wind and start drafting a resignation later. As quickly as that thought came over me a bolt of wisdom shot through me. “Don’t make permanent decisions based on temporary emotions.” This golden rule sits at number 8 on my son’s ‘Rules for my Son’ plaque his dad got him. I read the rules everyday while a change my sons diaper. The plaque sits at eye-level right above his changing table. Up until my mini meltdown I was on cloud-nine. I had added a couple thousand more words to the rough draft of my book. I started the search for a financial planner to get me back on track. Shoot, I made myself gluten free juevos ranchero for breakfast. That joint was lit! So what the hell was I complaining about? Literally, forty-five minutes before, I was doing the cabbage patch in celebration of me sort-off adulting. Now look at me! Pouting about being home, in my sweats, surfing Facebook occasionally, able to take a cat nap, play with my son, answer a petty email here and there, while getting paid. Go ahead, say it! “Boo, fucking, who!” I deserve it. A) That all sounds pretty sweet. B) On the other hand if I don’t want to work on a sick day; then I’m responsible for setting the precedent. C) Perhaps all that annoying shit is not my calling, but I chose it. D) I don’t have a D but I overcommitted to lettering my thoughts just then. Wait, light bulb moment: I over commit! We all over commit. It’s inherent and ingrained in us. Maybe it’s a woman thing. Maybe it’s a people pleaser thing. Maybe it’s a self sabotage thing. But how can I be mad at my managers for over committing themselves, their time, their team, and myself if I’m guilty of overcommitting myself. That’s the issue with my finances, that’s the issue with my businesses getting off the ground, that’s the issue with my work life balance, that’s just the issue point blank. If I focused doing what is possible and reasonable from a place of joy instead of trying to do it all from a place of misery, I wouldn’t feel the need to resign. Duh! And if I can change that for me it surely will trickle into my work relationships and the people I serve. Tomorrow we vow to take it one thing at a time. We focus intently on ourselves and our boundaries. We give thanks and we don’t bitch…about anything. And by we I mean we. We’re in this together. Namaste. Amen. Bet.