I’ve realized in the last week that I desperately need boundaries.
Not so much to keep other people and their stuff out, because honestly, I’m pretty good about not worrying too much about what other people think.
But I do need boundaries to know when to stop. To know when I’ve done enough on a project. When I’ve added enough projects to the stack. To know that no matter how interesting something is, how much I care about a topic, I simply can’t do any more than I’m doing.
I have a notebook to keep track of projects, and what the next steps are for each. And then I make a list of steps for the day. Once those steps are done, I know I can stop. And I’m learning to stop there.
Sure, there might be time to do more. But I’m finding slowly, painfully, that if I just go and go and go, I hit exhaustion and overwhelm.
In avoiding that pain, I’m discovering joy. Lightness in feeling that there’s spaciousness. That not every moment needs to be filled with doing, or planning, or worrying.
That really, there’s only so much I can do, and at some point I need to trust. Trust myself that I’ve done enough. Trust the people I’m working with that they can do some of these things, too. Trust that my ideas are going to work, and I don’t have to keep tweaking and retweaking them.
To trust the systems I’ve put into place. To trust that not everything has to be perfect. That good enough really is good enough, and that last 10% of perfection just may not be worth the stress.
And I guess maybe that does get back into the realm of boundaries against other people’s desires and expectations. I’ve spent any number of years picking up extra projects, making sure that things are done just so, that stopping may be an oddness.
It’s not anyone’s fault that people expect me to act a certain way, because that’s how I’ve always acted. Now I’ll need to figure how to reconfigure those expectations.
Something else for the list. But not, necessarily, for this week.