So, yeah, things are getting busier again for me.
Part of the current flurry of activity for me right now, at least when it comes to work, is trying to consider just how much I can handle, and how to structure my time to help that happen to the best of my ability. This kind of introspection is very much the product of not having been quite so busy for at least the last year, and having fallen out of practice of simply just keeping my head down and producing, without too much reflection of what that means and what costs such an attitude have; nonetheless, it’s still an unexpected level of self-analysis that runs contrary to the story I’d previously told myself, where I could get everything done as long as I just made it happen.
I’m recognizing my limits, as they exist today: the rhythms I’ve developed as to when I’m at my most productive, and the space I need between projects in order to recalibrate my head. I’ve learned, already, the amount of downtime I need at the end of the day, at weekends, to allow my brain a chance to relax, and allow me a life outside of work and simply fulfilling physical needs. The upshot of this is that, as I take note and relearn just what I’m capable of, I’ll eventually be more productive and able to juggle multiple projects again with something approaching ease, or at least easier than it’s been.
Part of all of this, though, is also that difficult thing of realizing that I can’t do everything, and that I’m going to make mistakes or miss deadlines — self-imposed deadlines, at least; thankfully, I haven’t blown any official deadlines yet — and that that’s okay. That’s maybe the hardest part of all this re-evaluation: accepting that, of course, at some point I’m going to fuck up. It’s inevitable, and it’s also understandable, given everything being asked of me, even by myself. It’s also not the end of the world, if handled well and humbly.
Or, at least, that’s the new story I tell myself.