A few months ago I completed a personality assessment with my team at work. Over the years I’ve done several of these types of exercises, but of all the tests I’ve taken this one seems to be the most thorough and most inclusive of all aspects of a person. The output of the assessment comes in varying levels of detail, but one of the first things I read and one of the easiest to understand is a scale of Interests. The assessment identifies 10 Areas of Interest and ranks them for each person – based on his or her answers. Mine look like this:
The explanation of the colors is a whole other conversation so ignore that for now, but look at the numbers. Our facilitator shared that anything above a 90 makes that area of “interest” more of a “need”. So according to this assessment, I NEED to fulfill my literary interests or I feel stressed and out of balance.
All that to say – I’ve missed this. This blog is my regular literary outlet and I haven’t posted a single word here for nearly an entire month. I think my sanity is starting to suffer. I could probably go back and prove it, but I feel pretty confident telling you that’s the longest I’ve been quiet here since I started this blog over 7 years ago.
But lately, it’s been that thing that had to give. Despite my best efforts and regardless of how I do the math, I still only get 24 hours each day. And dammit if that just isn’t enough for this girl sometimes.
In the good ole days, I conditioned myself to function on less and less sleep. Meaning, if everything I wanted/needed to do in a day added up to 20 hours, then I’d only sleep 4. I functioned on caffeine and stubbornness — it worked for years.
But then I started running. And at first, caffeine and stubbornness were fueling everything just fine, but there came a point at which running more meant sleeping more and I had to reevaluate the whole stupid system. I couldn’t stay up till 1 a.m. writing anymore, because I knew the next day’s run would be brutal. I tried it here and there, and I paid dearly for it each time. So the bittersweet effect running has had on my daily schedule is the blessing and curse of more sleep.
And running is just one piece of the puzzle. I also have this handsome sliver of (almost) 4-year-old happiness that is growing 6 inches a day and sponging up everything he sees, hears, smells and touches. Colt is on fire. He really is. We ask him questions and can’t wait for his answers. We have conversations about his being old enough to go to school “next year”. (That makes my heart pound every time.) Sometimes we just stare at him and smile – and wonder just how the three of us got here.
And then I have this job. At this place that I love. Filled with people I respect. I don’t write about work all that often, but maybe I should. Not work, necessarily, but the people there. There have been times, like a year ago, when I wrote THIS. And there are times I have to stop myself from writing a post gushing about how lucky I am to truly be part of a strong, smart team — because I have this stubborn (and maybe a little guilty) attitude about not “loving” work and not “bringing it home”. But the truth is that I kinda do love it, and I do feel lucky to be there every day. For over 6 years, I’ve worked in a place filled with incredible people who have taught me things I will value the rest of my life.
So there. That’s what’s up lately. A little from my head, a little from my heart, even a little from my tired, blistered feet. I will catch you up. I will fill you in on the rest. Because you know there’s more, right? There’s always more.